


Freely Given

by Samirant



Series: nothing stronger than a heart [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, D-r-a-m-a, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Oathfam, Surrogacy, for the sleep thief, impulsive jaime is impulsive, jaime: i don't care at all and that's why i'm doing these things, mention/discussion of previous jaime/others, real cat fiction, those dornish sneaks, unconscionable abuse of italics, what are these emotions and how do i make them go away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 73,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21789862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samirant/pseuds/Samirant
Summary: There’s something wrong in saying that the next chapter of Jaime’s life starts when Renly Baratheon’s life ends.Doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: nothing stronger than a heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607014
Comments: 559
Kudos: 546





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slipsthrufingers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipsthrufingers/gifts).



> For my dear friend K, who I wanted to hug so many times over the last month or so, if not for that pesky Pacific Ocean between us. Please forgive Nire and me for hiding this first chapter from you, but I wanted to give you a good surprise. It may make you cry (the upcoming stuff has definitely made us cry), but eventually they'll be all good tears? I hope so. Less than three, chica.

There was a wreath on the door of Baratheon and Tyrell’s apartment. 

Jaime Lannister paused in place, head cocked to one side before the reason became clear with remembrance. The sigh that came from his throat was small and involuntary, the pang of something like regret left his stomach unsettled. 

His attention was broken by the thump of a warm, furry body against his shins and Jaime reached down to give his dog a brisk scratch between the ears. “Come on, buddy,” he said quietly, tore his gaze away from the ring of black tinted roses and unlocked his own door to go inside. 

###### 

Days and then weeks passed before the wreath was finally taken down, though Jaime never saw if it was one of Baratheon or Tyrell’s contingents who did so. 

He did notice, however, when the door was left wide open, boxes piled in the entryway. 

Jaime wrestled his dog back into the apartment, closing the door firmly behind him before looking around. The two other doors on the floor remained shut, strangers behind them that he’d only seen occasionally in passing, no one that he could pull aside to trade intel in regards to the new neighbor. He chanced a glance through what used to be Renly’s front door, surprised to find that it held the same furniture that he and Loras had filled the place with: sleek modern pieces, plush rugs and abstract art on the wall. 

From somewhere below him came a meow. 

He peered into the pet carrier just inside the door to find a pair of yellow-green eyes and orange fur pressing into the front panel and the cat let out another plaintive meow. Reaching a finger in to stroke at its soft head, Jaime said, “Can’t imagine you’re here by yourself.”

The cat didn’t answer. Obviously. 

A quick glance at his watch told Jaime that any further delay would get him stuck in midtown traffic for sure, so he made his way to the elevators, the doors smoothly spreading as he approached. They revealed what had to be the newest tenant - and it was someone he had seen before.

“Hey,” he said, surprised.

It was the giantess, one of Renly’s friends he’d seen enter and exit the apartment at random intervals over the few years they’d shared a floor. Blonde, blue-eyed, _tall_ , the first things that he’d thought when he caught sight of her, he thought them again in that moment. 

She only gave him a curt nod, shifting the box in her arms and Jaime eased to one side so she could pass. He opened his mouth to say one thing or another, maybe _welcome to the building_ or _what’s the cat’s name_ , but his voice died in his throat when he saw the dark circles under her still brilliantly blue eyes, the pallor of her complexion that was such a contrast to when he’d last seen her. 

_(The dog pulled at the leash like the spaz he was and Jaime was trying his best not to get tangled in the mess when the elevators slid open. Renly came staggering out, the big blonde following after like a distinctly attentive septa._

_“Jaime! Lannister!”_

_“Renly,” Jaime said back, looking between them, waiting for an introduction he’d never managed to get in the past. The leash snapped in his hands again and he hissed_ cool it! _in a downward direction._

_“It’s the best, Jaime, it’s the godsdamn best,” Renly nearly spun in place, the fumes of whatever he was hosed on nearly knocking Jaime back where he stood, “can you believe it?”_

_“I cannot.” He raised his eyebrows and attempted to trade an amused glance with the woman, but she hadn’t turned in his direction, her warm gaze was on Renly alone._

_“We’re going to have a baby!” Renly shouted joyfully, eyes bright and smile wide. He stumbled over his feet and the giantess grabbed his elbows to keep him steady, eyes rolled heavenward in contrast to the fondness of her smile. “I’m going to be a dad!”_

_Renly kept grinning and shook his head as he struggled to pull his keys out of his pocket, crowing in delight when he found them._

_“That’s, uh, that’s great,” Jaime replied as the tipsy Baratheon was wrangled by his friend, her muscles flexing interestingly as she struggled to keep him upright. “Does Loras know he’s been replaced by a new and improved model?”_

_At Jaime’s gesture toward his friend, Renly burst out laughing. “What, Brienne? No, it’s mine and Loras’. The best of mine and his. It’s going to be beauuuuuutiful.”_

_“I don’t know how much he’s had to drink, but I’d be worried that he’s lost his grasp on basic biology,” Jaime said in the woman - Brienne’s - direction._

_“He’s fine,” Brienne said shortly, her face having gone a splotchy red in her exertion. It made her eyes look all the bluer, even if she frowned and lurched forward when Renly finally managed to unlock the door and face planted into the entryway. “For gods sake, Renly-”)_

He’d learned her name and that she could pick up a grown man like a sack of flour to haul him inside his home, but that was the last Jaime had seen her. She’d looked a lot happier then. Renly and Loras had been a lot more alive.

“Brienne,” Jaime said abruptly.

She stopped at the doorway, turning slightly towards him, confusion etched on her pale face.

“Brienne, right?”

She nodded. 

“I, uh,” Jaime scrambled for the words, suddenly feeling useless and wishing he’d said nothing at all, “I just… I’m sorry. About Renly. And Loras. Both of them.”

Her mouth pinched and her jaw clenched and Jaime wanted to erase every second of their interaction, to go back in time to approximately a minute before. He’d say hi to the cat and then say nothing as Brienne passed, pretend to take no notice of her or the grief that had settled around her in a gray, stormy cloud, her eyes stark with loss and sorrow. They could have met on a better day, months from now, when Jaime felt a hell of a lot more surefooted. 

But then she finally said, “Thanks,” in a low, tired voice and went inside the apartment, leaving him alone on the landing once more. 

Jaime jabbed the elevator button to call it back and silently contemplated to himself that maybe next time would go a little better.

It didn’t.

###### 

“What?” Jaime’s tone was impatient, harsh, in suitable reflection to the hard, insistent hammering that had called him to his front door. “What is your fucking prob-”

Brienne. 

Jaime was startled into silence. The hand holding his dinner in a take out carton dropped enough that his dog took the opportunity to pounce on the presumed reward and Jaime shouted at the scrape of claws on his arm. “Aw, damn it!”

His dinner splattered on the floor and Jaime let out a frustrated breath before turning back to his new neighbor standing at his threshold. “Yeah, what?”

The disappointed, judging look on her face was wholly undeserved. Was she the one who had to go to the nearest Myrish cafe to get a replacement meal? No. No, she wasn’t. 

“Your dog,” Brienne said with gritted teeth, “barks all day. _The whole damned day_.”

“Well, he’s a dog, they do that,” Jaime groused back and crouched down to to swipe up the box, its contents licked clean. He used it to swat lightly at the shorn canine flank as it scampered away and called out, “You dick!”

Brienne made a frustrated noise above him. Jaime studied the empty box, annoyed by them both and asked, “Is that all? It’s not like any of the other neighbors have complained.” 

“It’s not the noise, it’s the constancy. And, yes, dogs bark, I’m not an idiot. They bark when they’re excited or they’re playing, but not continuously, without ceasing.” Brienne glowered down at him and Jaime bounced back up to minimize their difference in height to a measly inch or two instead of the great expanse of her legs and torso - no matter how modestly she dressed, that much about her was always on full display. “They only act like that when they’re not properly trained or exercised, when they don’t get enough attention.”

“I have someone who comes by everyday,” Jaime protested. “He gets plenty of exercise.”

Brienne raised her hands to her face, her long fingers forming a steeple over the bridge of her crooked nose. Her eyes were shut and when she spoke again, her voice was strangled into false calmness. “I’ve kept an eye out over the last few days, your walker comes by for ten minutes, _at best._ They take your dog out and come back and drop him off in less time it takes for me to make a sandwich. He barks before and he barks after and it is frankly offensive that you think that’s enough.”

“Now wait, that’s…” Jaime trailed off, his mind going blank with anger, “that little shit. He told me he’s been taking Tiger out for at least an hour or two.”

Whatever showed on his face, it was enough for Brienne to move from defcon one to maybe one point five. “Just… now you know. Do something about it, will you?”

“Fine, yeah,” Jaime replied, already pulling out his phone to call his nephew and stopped short. No, better to call Cersei and really get the message across. He was dialing when he looked back up to give a grudging thanks, only to see Brienne across the way, disappearing into her apartment. 

###### 

If he had his way, their paths wouldn’t have crossed for weeks, months perhaps, whatever it took to reset them back to a friendlier baseline. The next morning, however, Jaime walked out to the landing and caught sight of Brienne exiting her apartment as well. But then she stopped, just as he did.

Her fury from the night before had somehow washed away and Brienne wouldn’t quite meet his eyes as she said, “About last night-”

“I fired the dogwalker. Or, at least as much as you can when they’re your sister’s kid,” Jaime told her. “She’s even making him pay me back-”

“-I’m sorry,” Brienne interrupted, “that was… I wasn’t feeling my best yesterday and-”

“-no, that’s fine-”

“-I just haven’t been myself lately.”

“-it’s probably best I know now, I can arrange something better.”

Their overlapping words fell to silence. Behind him, he could hear Tiger clawing at the door on the other side, still full of energy despite the near hour Jaime had committed to spending time with him before getting ready for work. 

“So, um, Tiger, you said?” Brienne motioned to the clamoring. 

“Yeah, my brother has the worst sense of humor,” Jaime answered. At Brienne’s puzzled look, he said, “Our family crest is a lion, he likes being contrary.”

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

Brienne looked down at her feet and shuffled them before looking up and saying, “I really am sorry, I was out of line.”

“No, I get it.” Jaime wasn’t used to being gentle with, well, anyone, but it was difficult to hold a grudge against someone who was so clearly miserable. He searched for words to say, but the idea of bringing up Renly even now seemed like the worst choice to make and he could think of little else they had in common. Instead, he said, “Do you know of any good services around? I already tried a place before all this, but I got Tiger back with the stupidest grooming I’ve ever seen, ass hair shaved clean off. I won’t take him back there.”

“I’d wondered about that,” Brienne said, her face breaking into a faint, closed-mouth smile. 

“I wasn’t even asked. Believe me, I wouldn’t make him look that stupid on purpose, even if it’s normal for the breed, I’m not that much of an asshole,” Jaime replied. 

The smile got very slightly warmer. “What kind is he anyway?”

“A lowchen. Means little lion. Another one of Tyrion’s jokes,” Jaime finished lamely. Tyrion had cackled like a loon the day he’d handed over the wriggling, fluffy puppy. Jaime had been ready to hand it back when it snuggled into his neck and he’d been lost to Tiger’s thrall ever since, no matter how much destruction he left in his wake. 

“Funny,” she said back, clearly out of politeness. 

There really wasn’t much else he could think to say, so Jaime tipped his head towards the elevator and said, “Best be off. Going to try sending my assistant over later, but I’ll come myself if I have to. Hopefully things will improve.”

“Actually,” Brienne took a brief step forward and then rocked back on her heels, her face going pink, “I can help, if you’d like. It’s the least I could do, after behaving the way I did.”

“That?” Jaime laughed lightly. “That didn’t even rate on the Lannister scale of unreasonable behavior. You actually had the right of it, which we rarely do.”

“All the same, I’d like to make amends,” Brienne insisted. Her shoulders dropped slightly, her expression shuttered as she averted her eyes. “It’d be” - a slow breath in, out - “a good distraction.”

“Sure, of course.” Jaime twisted his keyring, freeing the correct one and moved forward to press it into Brienne’s warm palm. He pulled out his phone and handed it over, encouraging her to add her number into his contacts. “There’s an alarm, but text me when you need in or out, I can shut it off remotely.”

“Sounds good,” Brienne said quietly, handing his phone back. He glanced down at it. Brienne Tarth. 

Well, people had certainly met under worse circumstances.

###### 

It was difficult for him to figure out if Brienne Tarth was a genuinely kind person or if she had the biggest guilt complex of anyone he’d ever met in his life. 

Worse, Jaime was starting to suspect it was both. 

They didn’t see each other much in person and the messages they traded were brief, Brienne alerting him when she needed to get Tiger out of his place or to return him home. His original key stayed in her possession and he had to dig out a spare for himself. Despite the time he mentioned that he’d found a possible dogwalker who came by the building for other tenants, Brienne’s return text had been a polite _that’s all right, I really don’t mind._ She’d said the same when he’d tried to recompense her for her time. On top of that, the times she took Tiger out were getting longer and longer, stretching past the original hour to the full morning or afternoon, and then all day. 

_i think tiger might be slowly being kidnapped,_ Jaime typed into his phone. _dognapped?_

Tyrion sent back _????_

_my new neighbors been taking him out for me but hes spending more time with her than i do_

_I didn’t give you that dog only for you to give him away, Jaime._

He sighed roughly. _thats what i mean shes slowly luring him away one day he wont come back at all is this what gaslighting is_

_You of all people should know what gaslighting is. No, this is you being a neglectful pet owner. Get your shit together, man. That was the whole damn point of Tiger in the first place._

_but she’s sad! i thought it might help it seemed like it would_

_Who is this woman anyway?_

_brienne tarth she was a friend of renlys and moved into his place since you know_

_The blonde giantess?_

Jaime stared at his phone. 

_how did you know that_

_You’ve mentioned her before._

_no i havent_

_You definitely have. Tall, blonde, crazy strong, according to you. Bluest eyes ever, if I recall correctly. Let me see._ There was a long pause and then a screen capture popped up and Jaime opened it to read the timestamp from at least three months before and the words that matched what his brother had described. Tyrion wrote again before he could regain his bearings. _I have a mind like a steel trap, dear brother, and proof to back it up. Finally got her name, did you? I’d be impressed, but I’ve managed to date at least three different women in the time since._

Jaime turned off his phone. 

###### 

It wasn’t any better when his call with Oberyn Martell morphed from business to friendlier territory. 

“Anyway, I don’t think I’ll make it down there for at least a few more months, so give my best to Ellaria,” Jaime told him. 

“She’d rather you give her your best in person, but I’ll pass that along,” Oberyn said with a chuckle. 

Jaime huffed out a laugh, thinking warmly of the last time he’d seen them. His mood was dashed just as quickly when he recalled the wreath on the door he’d seen after his last trip to Dorne. “Hey, uh, you heard what happened with Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell, right?”

“Of course, I sent my condolences to both families. Such a tragedy and so pointless. They shouldn’t have been flying in that weather, but those are the Stormlands for you, a tempest can form with little warning.”

“Yeah…” Jaime trailed off. 

“Why do you mention it?”

“Oh, well, a friend of theirs moved into the apartment across the way, she’s been taking Tiger out for me the last couple weeks.”

Oberyn’s silence was telling and Jaime felt a gnawing sensation that he’d given too much away with only a few words. He was proven correct when Oberyn chuckled again, high and delighted. “The statuesque wonder with the blue eyes?”

“Fucking fuck, you too?” Jaime groaned. “I don’t even remember saying anything.”

“You rarely mention any women in your life, despite Ellaria’s attempts to draw something out when your guard is down” - after they’d both wrung him dry, more like, but Jaime didn’t bother splitting hairs - “so it’s memorable when you mention her.”

“I’ve done it more than once?”

“Enough that Ellaria is rather hopeful you’ll eventually make a move and maybe she can join in our special visits.”

It was suddenly too hot in his office and Jaime pulled at his collar as the vision flashed in his head, the twining of pale skin with tanned limbs, blonde hair and blue eyes clashing with brown. Just as quickly, Ellaria and Oberyn disappeared from the image and it was just Brienne, the red flush on her cheeks, her long body moving under his and -

Oberyn laughed again, even louder. “You’re thinking about it!”

“I am now, damn it Martell!” 

“Ellaria is going to _love_ this.”

“It’s not like - I can’t do anything _now_ , she’s a wreck over Baratheon, it’s obvious they were close.”

“I’ve always found a vigorous round of lovemaking to be more than enough to dispel any dark moods,” Oberyn replied, but he sighed lightly. “You’re an honorable man, Jaime, a rare find in your family. Perhaps you can spend time with her in the meanwhile. It can’t be too much to try to get to know her.”

“Maybe,” Jaime muttered. 

“Keep us apprised of any changes, you know Ellaria lives for these kinds of things.”

“Like you don’t,” Jaime retorted. 

“There’s no shame in loving love, my friend.”

“Hanging up now.”

Oberyn was laughing again when he did. 

###### 

The day he arrived home, habitually bracing himself for an onslaught that never came, was the day things changed. 

Instead of jumping on him like every single day for the last several months, Tiger sat back on his haunches as Jaime walked in. He eyed the dog suspiciously as he shed his suit jacket, but Tiger remained sitting, only tilting his furry head until Jaime put out his hand to beckon him over; he finally came forward and pushed his head under Jaime’s palm, tongue hanging from a happy canine grin.

“Did she… trade you out?” Jaime asked with wonder. “Tiger?”

Tiger perked up. 

“Nope, that’s you,” Jaime said slowly. On a hunch, he said _sit_ and marveled when the dog plopped down on his backside. “Holy shit.”

He ran through a few different cues he could remember from movies or tv shows, chuckling when Tiger shook hands, rolled over and played dead on command. Jaime found himself grinning with each successful trick and started to take out his phone to send a text, but hesitated before doing so. 

A minute later, he was knocking at Brienne’s door, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt just before she came into view. “Hey, hi,” he said, wincing at the eagerness in those otherwise unremarkable words. 

“Everything all right?” Brienne didn’t quite look unwelcoming, mostly just wary. 

“Yeah, damndest thing though, I came home today and Tiger seemed to have a personality transplant. I was thinking I probably had you to thank for that.”

She flushed a deep red, looking pleased but embarrassed about it at the same time. Jaime found it more charming than was probably healthy. “Oh. Yes, I… I had free time and he’s a pretty smart dog…”

“He knows how to high five now!” Jaime said brightly. 

“Yeah, I liked that one,” Brienne replied. 

“Well, it’s early yet, but I’m starting to feel a little hopeful that I may never again arrive home to find he’s trashed the place,” Jaime smiled widely, “so you’ve got to let me thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It really wasn’t that much trouble.” 

“No, seriously, you’ve been a life saver but this is above and beyond,” Jaime said in a rush, hoping to stop her before she shut the door again. “Have you eaten dinner? I can order something for us both. As a thank you.”

Brienne shifted awkwardly where she stood. “I have, actually.”

“Then how about - oh, who’s this then?” Jaime crouched down as the orange cat he’d last seen in the carrier edged out past Brienne’s legs, sniffing curiously in his direction. “Hey there.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Brienne came down, knees bending gracefully as she did. She curled a hand over the cat’s back and it arched against her fingers. “This is Salmon.”

Jaime laughed. “Are you serious? A cat named Salmon? That’s awesome.”

“Wasn’t trying to be contrary,” Brienne said, a muted smirk on her lips, “but the color fit, so.”

“Tiger and Salmon,” Jaime mused. “Are they friends? Can cats and dogs be friends?”

“They can and they are,” Brienne confirmed. She made a groaning noise and stood back up; Jaime staying hunched down to stroke Salmon’s soft fur a little more, trying to think of something to prolong their interaction.

The idea was so obvious when it came and he glanced up at her to say, “How about something to drink? My brother gave me a bottle of wine that’s remained unopened for far too long. I’d be happy to share.”

Brienne sounded vaguely regretful when she said, “Thank you, but I can’t.”

Jaime knew he was on the edge of pushing too far, but he was going to try one last game attempt when his brain suddenly stumbled to a halt at the sight of Brienne raising her shoulders in a stretch and then putting her hands on her hips, her back going in a cat-like arch that he’d last seen Cersei do when she was carrying Tommen. He blinked rapidly, as if it would clear the sight before him, but there was no mistaking it now.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, rather stupidly. _So fucking stupid._

Very clearly pregnant, based on the outline of her abdomen as it stretched against her shirt, no two ways about it. Only one way. A pregnant way.

Jaime stood quickly before he could topple to the floor in shock. Salmon meowed in offense when he did and darted back behind Brienne, vanishing altogether. 

“Yeah.” Brienne rubbed at her belly, her decidedly pregnant belly. 

“Wow, I didn’t know. That’s, uh, that’s great, congratulations.” How had he missed it? What else had he missed? Was her husband somewhere behind the door, laughing his ass off at the idiot from across the hall that’d been futilely trying to make a pass at his wife? “How- how far along?”

“Just shy of five months,” was Brienne’s reserved reply. Somewhere in the pitiful wails of disappointment in his mind, Jaime’s attention caught on it and he looked at her more closely. 

Her tone held nothing of Cersei’s smugness that had been so prominent during her pregnancies. Cersei had been all haughty delight, that she was the first of them to give their father grandchildren, not that Jaime or Tyrion had been racing against her to begin with. Granted, Brienne didn’t seem to be the kind of person who naturally trended to smugness, but neither did she look especially… happy. Quite the opposite. 

Jaime tried not to show that a cold trickle of disquiet was running down the center of his spine. He kept his voice as even as possible to ask, “Brienne, is everything all right? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” she said in the same nearly blank way as before. 

He stepped slightly closer, chancing a look past her, trying to see inside the apartment, to hear if someone was out of sight. In a low voice, he said, “Look, if you’re not okay or not, I don’t know, safe-”

 _That_ got a reaction, one in which Brienne reared back in surprise. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You’re being kind of weird,” Jaime said in a harsher whisper than he intended, thrown once more by Brienne’s irregular responses.

“ _You’re_ being weird,” Brienne shot back. 

Jaime spread his hands and gaped at her. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Help with what?” Brienne asked, exasperated. “And why do you keep looking behind me?”

“There’s no one there?” Jaime asked haltingly.

“Aside from Salmon, no,” Brienne replied firmly. 

The relief that came over him had a strange complexity that he couldn’t even begin to untangle, never mind that Brienne was looking at him like maybe she‘d be better off with a solid door between them. 

“Sorry, wait, sorry,” he said when Brienne eased backward, unmistakably guarded now. He ran their exchange through his head and felt all the more ridiculous for it. “You’re right, I was being weird. You seemed… not okay. Pregnant women I’ve known, well, it was just my sister and she’s not exactly the standard of normalcy, but even she was a lot more excited to tell people she was pregnant. You weren’t. It threw me off, made me think something might be wrong.”

Brienne crossed her arms and softly sighed at the end of his rambling, visibly contemplating something and then she finally kicked open the door with her heel and said, “Come on in.” 

###### 

Jaime drank the glass of water she’d provided, taking long gulps until it was completely empty and he set it down on her - Renly’s - coffee table. Renly’s. 

“It’s Renly’s?” He couldn’t keep the astonishment out of the words. “Renly Baratheon’s.”

“And Loras’,” Brienne added gently, her eyes soft with melancholy. 

“That not how things work, do they? Did that change when I wasn’t paying attention?”

Brienne let out something that was barely a laugh. “No, it’s still - no. They had a donor, from a Tyrell. A female one.”

“Well, that’s something,” Jaime mumbled. “But you’re the one carrying it.”

“As you so astutely observed, yes.” Brienne looked down at her own stomach, patting it much as one would an unfamiliar dog. “They needed a surrogate and I offered to help.”

“But now they’re…” Jaime’s throat went dry with the idea of it and he regretted finishing his water so quickly. 

“Gone.” Brienne wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, her hands dropping to her sides. “Yes.”

Jaime muttered a slew of curses, stifling them by bringing his elbows to his knees and fist to his mouth. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m really sorry, Brienne. That’s, I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

Brienne pursed her lips together and nodded, the movement jerky. 

“You don’t-” Jaime stuttered internally over it. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, but, what’s going to happen?”

“It’s unclear,” Brienne answered tightly. “Their families, they insisted that I move here in the meanwhile, get some _rest_ ” - she said it like it was a dirty word, any other time it would have made him laugh, but absolutely nothing about her slumped posture was funny - “but nobody is ready to really decide anything about it. So I’m just here until they figure it out.”

“But what do you want?” Jaime asked. The way she brought her startled gaze back to him left him with the unsettling inkling that perhaps he’d been the first one to pose that question. 

There were several beats of silence as Brienne considered it, then she shook her head and sadly said, “I want Renly back. But I can’t have that, can I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (on a lighter note)
> 
> Jaime: If I get a dog, it'll be sleek, powerful, and dignified. Just like me.
> 
> Tyrion: Here, I got you this.  
> 
> 
> Oh! I have a tumblr @samirant. Slips is to blame for this, too.


	2. Chapter 2

_I should stay out of it._

Jaime repeated it to himself the rest of the week. _Too complicated, too messy, I should leave well enough alone._

He saw Brienne every morning, his line of vision clear into her apartment as she waited for Tiger to trot across the landing. They exchanged waves and Jaime made his way to work, reminding himself again: _I should stay out of it._

The text he’d sent to Tyrion didn’t lead to any clarity or guidance: _shes pregnant brienne i mean_

The image of his brother’s scathing smile came to mind as he read _I always knew you could accomplish great things when you applied yourself, but even this is far beyond what I expected, brother. Felicitations!_

_not mine you ass_

_Alas, a pity._

It was a few days straight of ignoring Tyrion’s calls after that, Tiger bouncing back and forth between apartments, that Jaime tried again. 

“I’m not sure what you expect me to say, it doesn’t seem an insurmountable problem,” Ellaria remarked when he told her the whole mess. “She certainly sounds intriguing and I know that during _my_ pregnancies, Oberyn had only to look at me and I absolutely melted. And the _orgasms-”_

Jaime barely felt where his forehead banged against his office desk and begged, _“_ Please put Oberyn on.”

Ellaria gave a _hmph_ of displeasure, but did as he asked. 

Oberyn didn’t improve anything by saying, “The quality was rather phenomenal. Not that it diminished from quantity, which was numerous.”

Jaime’s _ohgoodgods_ was muffled against the wooden desktop. 

“My love is correct, this is hardly a problem, Jaime. Complicated? Yes. A reason for you not to pursue her? Not at all.”

“She’s pregnant. With another man’s baby. Two men’s baby. Two _dead_ men’s baby,” Jaime answered. 

“That is a remarkable caveat,” Oberyn said quietly. “May I speak candidly?”

“Could I stop you?”

He couldn’t, apparently. “Ellaria and I are well aware we are only a diversion for you. An enjoyable diversion, but nothing more. I said that you mention women rarely, but the truth is that this is the _only_ woman you’ve brought up to us, that’s how we knew it could be something.”

“Telling you about her eyes and mentioning her twice is hardly an indicator that it’ll mean anything. It’s not as if she and I are meant to be.” Jaime picked up his head and pressed his hand to his forehead to rub away what he was sure was a red blotch. “It’s too complicated. She’s mourning. She has to deal with being pregnant and it’s a big fucking mess. I shouldn’t get in the middle of it.”

“And yet here we are, discussing her still.”

Jaime took a big breath and let it out noisily. 

“As for not being meant to be, I’m hardly the one to convince you otherwise. I saw my Ellaria one night and knew, in the very essence of my soul, that she was the one for me. I had children with another, she was on the arm of a man I despised, yet she saw me and felt the same.” There was a brief moment of canoodling - Ellaria’s satisfied hum and Oberyn’s answering murmur - on the other end of the line and Jaime rolled his eyes, though his heart wasn’t really in it. “Perhaps you are not meant to be, but you can hardly say for certain that you’re not.”

Which was all well and good to hear, but Jaime wrestled with the idea of it clear to the weekend, sleeping in and then puttering around his kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the news on his tablet, until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Hey, quit it. It’s Saturday, that’s my day, buddy,” he called out.

Tiger, from his seat at the front door, with its scratches and scuff marks galore, looked back at Jaime over his shoulder. His tail wagged, thumping against the floor with each fanning arc. 

“I’m leaving it alone” - Jaime scowled when Tiger didn’t move - “Brienne’s got enough to deal with, she doesn’t need me adding any bullshit.”

Tiger stared at him.

“I”m not doing it,” Jaime insisted. “I’m not.”

###### 

“Jaime?”

“Hey, yeah, I was thinking of taking Tiger for a walk. You want to come with?”

###### 

“We look strange.” Jaime was sure of it, though he was also amazed by the fact that Tiger wasn’t trying to engage him in a tug-of-war over the leash. Brienne was a godsdamn miracle worker.

“Maybe,” Brienne said noncommittally. She had sunglasses on and a leash in her own hand. In her jeans and loose fitting blouse, he could hardly see the bump. 

“We look _really_ strange. I can just feel people staring and thinking _what the fuck._ ”

“You get used to it.”

Jaime looked at her and then drew his gaze away before could be accused of staring. But he knew what Brienne meant, even he’d thought it when he first saw her. Crooked nose, overgenerous mouth, freckles scattered everywhere and taller than him even in flat shoes. She must have gotten shit for it all of her life. Jaime probably would have chimed in if he hadn’t first caught sight of her at exactly the moment Renly had made her laugh in the building lobby, her eyes lighting up as their arms went over each other’s shoulders, Loras behind them complaining that he wanted shotgun, why should she always get shotgun just because of her stupidly long legs? 

Then Jaime noticed the legs. Definitely. Stupidly. Long legs. 

Now she was walking beside him on the legs he’d frozen in place to watch walk away. And in front of them was Salmon in a harness, briskly prancing alongside Tiger. 

She’d been right - they were friends. 

“I didn’t even know you could take cats for a walk,” Jaime said in an effort to distract himself from the memory, one sad to think of now, to know the two men were gone and he’d yet to see Brienne laugh and smile like that again. 

“Maybe not all of them, but I’ve had to train Salmon up pretty well with all the moving I do. Sometimes I have to stay in a hotel and I need to make sure he gets tired out before he’s tempted to shred the drapes,” Brienne explained. 

“What is it that you do anyway? As good as you are at it, I can’t imagine you’re a traveling pet trainer.”

Brienne shook her head, her mouth quirking slightly. “I’m a forensic accountant for the government. I get assignments all over to do audits, monitor spending, look for any signs of fraud. But I volunteered at an animal shelter when I was a kid and I picked up a few things there.”

“Lucky for my furniture, that.” Jaime frowned thoughtfully. “So, had you moved to Kings Landing once you got pregnant or...?”

“No, we, we’d originally planned that I’d continue doing my work for a while, for as long as it was safe to travel.” The small catch in her voice made Jaime want to brain himself against a nearby tree trunk, but Brienne didn’t appear to notice. “I would have stayed with them during the last couple of months, my timetable just got moved up.”

“I’m an ass, I didn’t mean to make you think of it,” Jaime said apologetically. _Apologetically._ He’d never said sorry so much in his godsdamned life. 

“Hard to think of much else,” Brienne said blandly. Then she forced a smile in Jaime’s direction. “I’m sorry, too, I can’t imagine I’m good company right now.”

“Well, the cat on the leash is definitely helping make things _less_ awkward.” 

That got a laugh. A minuscule one, but Jaime would take it. 

“You don’t have to tiptoe around it, I couldn’t avoid it if I tried,” Brienne said softly. “My best friend and his husband got on a plane and flew into some fog and they never came home. It’s reality. It’s what we all have to live with now.”

Jaime nodded, pausing when they got to a dog enclosure. Brienne automatically gathered Salmon in her arms when Jaime unhooked Tiger and let him loose to play with the other dogs inside. It was with a nod of a head and a small gesture that they both sat on a park bench nearby. 

He propped his elbows up on the backrest, but made sure not to brush his knuckles against her shirt, no matter how tempting the thought. “Think you’ll take on more assignments once you’ve gotten sick of resting? I can watch Salmon if you want, it’s the least I could do.”

“Not going to happen, unfortunately. There was an incidentat the memorial.” Brienne heaved a long, annoyed breath. “I had to take two flights and the longest cab ride in the world to get to Storm’s End. Between that and not having eaten most of the day, I had a dizzy spell. That was enough for Stannis to insist that I not travel anymore and so here I am. I could have argued, but the way he was… I don’t think he knew he loved Renly as much as he did until he was gone. It was the least I could do, to promise to keep safe.”

“That was kind of you,” Jaime replied. Perhaps she did have a guilt complex the size of Casterly Rock, but she certainly didn’t seem to punish others for it. “You’re a kind person.”

“To a fault,” Brienne said wryly. 

“Nah, the world could use more kind people,” Jaime disagreed. “Especially when there’s assholes like us Lannisters around, dragging pregnant women around the park, forcing them into free pet minding labor.”

“Renly did call you an asshole a time or two,” Brienne mused. At Salmon’s fidgeting, she let him loose and Salmon tucked into a loaf between them, chittering at the birds flying overhead. “Though he really liked the phrase vainglorious.”

“Yeah, that little shit would say something like that, wouldn’t he?” It came out without thought and he snuck a guilty glance over to see Brienne purse her lips, but even with her sunglasses obscuring her eyes, he didn’t think he was imagining the appreciative look she sent his way. _Huh_ , Jaime thought, _now this I can do._ “I never saw that man in the same outfit twice, he had some nerve to call me vain.”

“I never said he wasn’t,” Brienne said lightly. 

“So we agree, he was vain and I am glorious.”

“I’m going to let you keep thinking that.”

They didn’t speak for several minutes, Jaime using the time to track Tiger’s progress as he played and chased after other dogs, stopped at the patch of fence closest to them as if to check in and then spirited off again. Salmon crawled into Jaime’s lap and he scratched underneath the harness, pleased when he could feel purrs reverberating to his fingertips. 

His delight in it must have been obvious, because Brienne took the leash from his hand and went to retrieve Tiger once his energy seemed expended. When they started walking again, Salmon leading Jaime, he laughed inwardly at the strange looks they received. At least Tiger’s fur had finally grown back, he figured, as that would have made an even odder tableau. 

“It’s a pretty nice day,” Jaime said as they approached the park’s entrance. “Too nice to be inside just yet, I think. There’s an outdoor cafe near here with a good lunch menu, if you’d like to join me.”

“Jaime…” Brienne bit her lip and Jaime felt an odd combination of heat and and disappointment. “Thank you, this was nice-”

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine,” Jaime said hurriedly. 

“If this is… if you are… I don’t need to be pitied,” Brienne said plaintively. “You don’t need to feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Jaime replied. “Not at all.”

“I know what it looks like, alone with a cat, everything with Renly and Loras, this whole weird pregnancy thing, having to make friends with a _dog_ to actually break up the monotony-”

“Hey now, I’ve been called a lot of things, but a _dog_ is going a little far.”

Brienne dropped her shoulders and gave him an unimpressed look. 

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Jaime repeated. “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do much else than go to work and come home to that dog. The closest friend I’ve got around here got married last year and Addam’s been missing in action since then. I’d hang out with my brother more, but I see him enough at work. And anyway, two Lannisters in the same room should probably be at least a misdemeanor in Kings Landing, with all the bullshit we get into trying to one up each other.”

Seeing her still skeptical expression, Jaime half threw his hands up and barreled on. “If anyone is feeling sorry for anyone, you should feel sorry for the guy in his thirties who is trying, rather poorly, to make a new friend out of the neighbor with the weird pregnancy thing _._ Between the two of us, you might be the one with the upper hand here, at least yours is interesting instead of on the edge of middle-aged patheticness.”

At that, Brienne’s body shook a little with a restrained chuckle. “That does sound pathetic, now that you mention it.”

“Then there you go. Weird pregnant lady and pathetic old guy have lunch, they could make a one act play about it. I’d insist on vetting the casting, the guy would have to be _very_ handsome or else it would come off as unrealistic.”

“Seven forbid,” Brienne said with no little sarcasm. But he knew he’d succeeded, maybe even did an internal fist pump, when she added, “I’d be a terrible at finances if I said no to a free lunch.”

“Who said _I’m_ paying?”

“I could work up a spreadsheet of all the time and effort I’ve put into taking care of Tiger.”

“You can pick whatever you want, I won’t even complain if you pick the most expensive item on the wine list.”

“Oh, you’re _hilarious.”_

###### 

Lunch on Saturday became another walk on Monday, which turned into getting fish and chips at the local Essosi joint on Thursday. 

Jaime forced himself to skip all the other days, ostensibly locking himself into his apartment in an effort to not look completely hopeless or eager to spend every free hour with Brienne. He _thought_ he might have been successful, but he undid his presumptive good work by spending a half hour chatting with her on their shared landing on Friday before finishing with, “See you tomorrow?”

Brienne’s easy agreement led him to his best night’s sleep yet. 

It was still complicated, still a tenuous balance between acknowledging that his nascent feelings for Brienne weren’t going anywhere, but friendship was all he could ask of her for the time being. Tyrion was skeptical and he kept his Dornish compatriots at bay on the matter, but Jaime at least knew that to ask more from her would be an exercise in failure. 

For all that he’d noticed her over the years, Jaime hadn’t actually known Brienne. He’d only had vague impressions of someone who adored Renly Baratheon to a degree the man probably didn’t deserve, laughed like it was being punched out of her midsection, and should really do the world a favor by wearing shorts more often.

Brienne herself? Jaime learned that she was quiet more often than not - even with the spectre of her loss and dubious gain, he had a feeling that was her typical demeanor - that she thought deeply before responding and held to an unerring sense of right and wrong. He should have found it irritating. He should have washed his hands of her the moment he realized that nothing, _nothing_ about anything going on was going to be straightforward. 

To explain to anybody exactly what kept drawing him back to Brienne, well, Jaime wasn’t sure he wanted to have that conversation even with himself. 

Jaime still caught her odd glances from time to time, the look in her eyes contemplative as he rambled about work or the mischief he and Tyrion got into as children in the little time they could spend together. The one time she murmured about taking too much of his time, he replied _have some care for this old man, Brienne,_ to which she snorted loudly, but didn’t say anything else. 

She gave him an out, even from friendship, but damned if he didn’t bother to take it. 

Saturday morning found them eating brunch a few blocks from their building, Brienne tucking into a wide array of foods without apology. Jaime offered no quips regarding the sight, what with the visceral memory of Cersei’s fork biting into the back of his hand when he’d attempted to tease her for a similar act. It was a wonder that Myrcella had turned out to be as sweet as she was, considering the way her mother had been a hellion during that particular pregnancy. 

Brienne was leaning back in her chair, telling him about a historical drama that he needed to watch so she could finally have someone to talk to about it - Jaime had already written it down on his napkin and underlined it three times - when a shadow fell over her face and her words faltered. 

It was gone in a flash, Brienne sitting up straight, expression clearing before he could fully process it. Then she was speaking past his shoulder. “Margaery.”

Jaime turned to find Margaery Tyrell caught between one step and the next, looking at Brienne as if she’d seen a ghost. It was unlike her, the savviest of Olenna’s grandchildren, to show her discomfort so blatantly. Her recovery took longer than Brienne’s, but even her own body betrayed her. Gone was the slender gracefulness that could be considered her trademark, replaced by delicate fragility, wrist bones and collarbones jutting out of her dark sweater, hair pulled back in an untidy knot, face drawn and devoid of cosmetics. Her voice was uncharacteristically rough when she said, “Brienne, hey.” 

She looked back at a small party of women and raised a hand at them, a polite request for time, and then leaned in to buss her cheek against Brienne’s. “You’re looking well.” 

Brienne didn’t lie in return, only swept her eyes over Loras’ sister and asked, “Would you like to sit?”

Margaery took the seat out of well-bred politeness and nothing else, clearly. Jaime suspected she would have rather run screaming from the restaurant altogether, but as soon as she sat, Margaery’s hand reached out and clamped onto Brienne’s, her knuckles going white with the strength of it. She cleared her throat and said, “You really do look good. I’m glad.”

“I’m doing all right, thanks,” Brienne replied kindly. 

“Going to your doctor’s visits? Everything okay?” 

“Of course, I’ve kept Olenna up to date with everything, Stannis too.” 

“Is he still making you stay home?” Margaery attempted a commiserating smile, though it quickly fell away.

“He is, but I don’t mind.”

Look at that, Jaime marveled. She _could_ lie. 

Margaery either wasn’t as attuned as he was, or it had more to do with the fact that her shining eyes wandered the room at length before she finally whispered, “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

“No, Margaery,” Brienne said quickly, bringing her other hand to cover where theirs were still joined. “No, you don’t have to apologize. It’s been difficult for everyone.”

“It’s just… really hard.” Margaery’s eyelids fluttered and she dashed at the corners with her free hand. “I miss him so much.”

“Me too.” He saw it again, the way she wavered for the briefest second before she set her shoulders and leaned in. “You do what you need to do, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good, good.” Margaery nodded quickly and took a few sniffling breaths. “Lor- gods, he would be so pissed at me for not keeping an eye on you.”

“Do what you need to do,” Brienne repeated. Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by the sound of her cell and she sighed when she saw the screen. “Sorry, it’s Stannis. He’ll only call again if I don’t answer. Be just a moment.”

At Margaery’s wobbly nod, and with a quick glance in Jaime’s direction, Brienne walked away from the table. He could see her through the window, stepping outside with the phone to one ear and a fingertip in the other, likely to block off the noisy clatter of the crowd. Jaime wondered if that was part of the reason why Margaery jumped nearly a foot in the air when she adjusted herself in the chair and took notice of him.

“Lannister?”

Jaime gave her a little wave, his fingers in a mock salute a good three inches from his face. 

“Were you-” 

“Having breakfast? Yep.”

“With Brienne.”

“We’re neighbors,” Jaime said lightly. 

Margaery regarded him carefully. “I suppose you are.”

Jaime hummed, lifted his coffee cup and then set it down immediately. “You haven’t called her?”

The mulish look she gave him was eerily reminiscent of Olenna’s. “This has nothing to do with you, Jaime.”

“Maybe not, but I’m here. Where the hell have you been?” The first few weeks of Brienne’s stay in the apartment came clearer in recollection. She’d admitted, if not with exact words, that she’d been lonely enough to take any outlet available, even if it was a dog. Worse or better, even Jaime. 

Margaery set her palms flat on the table, bracing herself. “It’s been a difficult time.”

“I get that, but she’s having your brother’s kid, I’d think that’d take some precedence here.” Jaime knew he should scale back on his unsparing tone, but the more he thought on it, the more it rankled. Olenna had the excuse of being halfway across the continent and he’d assumed Margaery was as well, not literal miles away from where Brienne now lived. He thought she’d at least _fucking called._ “I thought you were capable of at least pretending to give a shit about someone besides yourself.”

Margaery cut her gaze away from his glare. She was quieter when she replied, “Brienne’s different. She’s stronger, she always has been.”

Jaime searched Brienne out on the other side of the window, where he found her conversation clearly over. She stood stock still, phone pressed to her chest and a lost look on her face, one he’d previously only caught glimpses of. He watched as she took a deep breath and the armor that Margaery obviously - erroneously - thought sturdy settled back into place. 

_She’s as fragile as you are,_ he wanted to tell Margaery, but he couldn’t say it. It felt oddly disloyal just to think it. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t cruel, so he stayed silent as Brienne reentered the restaurant, a warm smile on her face that she directed at Margaery. He said nothing as they said their goodbyes, Margaery giving a clinging hug, Brienne’s hands clenching only once at the back of her sweater before letting go. 

And when they split their bill and Brienne quietly said she would make her own way home, he only nodded and squashed down the urge that told him he should follow. 

###### 

He slept fitfully Saturday night and even worse on Sunday, the radio silence from the direction of Brienne’s apartment setting Jaime more on edge as time passed. He’d never felt the precariousness of their newly formed friendship more; he wanted to text Brienne like Tyrion, to call her like Oberyn or Ellaria and it bothered him that he was already setting her in a place alongside the likes of them. It bothered him more that it didn’t seem like a completely outlandish inclination.

Somewhere in the early hours of Monday morning he gave up on sleep entirely, changing into comfortable clothes and running sneakers and then setting earbuds in his ears to play music at a near deafening level in hopes of drowning out his thoughts. Between that and the pounding pavement underneath his feet, the cool, dark and empty streets, Jaime was successful at it for the first time since he’d seen Brienne walk away. He made his way back home with the hopes of a quick shower and collapsing in his bed for a couple hours before starting a late morning at work. 

Then he got to their floor and threw it all out the window, because why wouldn’t he?

Still panting from his cooldown, Jaime glanced at Brienne’s door when he got home, confused to see the faint outline of light around her doorway, made more apparent by the dimmed hallway lamps. 

Jaime tugged the earbuds from his ears, the noise from them still blaring, but it wasn’t enough to cover the sounds of movement from her place. His watch told him it wasn’t even five, but it was apparent he wasn’t the only having trouble getting rest.

He was admonishing himself not to do it even as he did, texting _you awake?_

It was better than knocking, he told himself. The thought of not doing anything at all was quickly brushed aside and then disappeared altogether when he got back _What in the world are you doing up?_

_went for a run just getting in_

_At this hour?_

_could say the same to you_

_Salmon woke me, as he always does about this time. He’s not of fan of me sleeping when he’s not._

_what a bastard_

He could hear her huffing laugh through the door and it warmed him more than was reasonable. 

_Harsh, but not untrue._

Jaime waffled a bit and then finally sent _going to make a smoothie want one_

The text bubbles spread across the screen for several seconds before he got _Sure_ , then the door opened and there she was. When she walked across to meet him, he asked, “What, no Salmon?”

“He doesn’t deserve smoothies for his behavior this morning,” Brienne replied.

“Fair enough.”

He had Brienne sit on one of the stools at the countertop as he dug through his fridge, pulling out vegetables and fruits, then a selection of protein powders and a jug of almond milk. Concentrating on the task, Jaime nearly missed the amused look she sent him, but he didn’t and he paused in place to ask, “What?”

“Nothing, just...” Brienne pressed her lips together, her eyes bright, and he found himself grinning back at her, almost helpless in it. “I was just thinking that I’m probably seeing the extent of your culinary expertise. Before this, I was certain you subsisted on take out alone.”

“I can boil an egg pretty good,” Jaime said back with a shrug and resumed his work.

“I stand corrected,” Brienne replied. “Forgive me for disparaging your good name.”

“I’ll let it slide this once.”

Brienne settled into the chair, glancing around his place without comment, answering his questions on her preferences and then accepting the glass without further comment after he’d blended it into submission. She took a sip and he immediately regretted providing a straw. 

Sighing silently, Jaime leaned back against the countertop. He was acutely aware of how his shirt still stuck to his skin and the way Brienne bucked all typical reactions he usually got when in that state. She wasn’t ignoring it, he was certain, or pretending it didn’t affect her - she just didn’t notice. 

Hubris or not, Jaime was well aware of what he looked like, the looks he elicited from both women and men. He’d known well before they’d said anything that Oberyn and Ellaria had an interest in him, and he’d been intrigued enough - celibate long enough - to take them up on the offer. There was little chance of forming romantic entanglements with them; they required no commitment or gestures of affection, only the promise of a good time when he needed to clear his head. Brienne was in every way the opposite. 

It was, in its own way, refreshing. And maddening. Maddening definitely tipped the scales. 

Brienne gave a mighty yawn and Jaime asked, “Think you’ll go back to bed after this?”

“Maybe, it’s not like I have anything else to do,” Brienne replied with an eye roll.

“Thought you said you didn’t mind.” Jaime arched an eyebrow when Brienne looked back at him, “Hey, I’m just repeating what I heard from your mouth.”

“What was I supposed to do, tell her that I hate it? That I’m going insane, staring at the walls until my next appointment or passing time learning the names of all those ridiculous women on The Real Housewives of Asshai?” Brienne’s voice had gotten slightly louder as she spoke, but she seemed to catch herself and dropped it back down to say, “You saw what she looked like. She doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”

“Going to disagree with you on that one,” Jaime said wryly. “As there’s literally two of you in front of me, she should probably worry twice as much.”

Brienne tipped her head away, irritation lengthening her tone as she said, “Jaime.”

“You deserve better than that, more than even a phone call,” Jaime insisted. “There’s no reason for her not to be around.”

“You don’t, it’s not,” Brienne sighed, “a lot of things happened, even… before. I don’t want to talk about it, please.”

“Fine. Not my place, I get it, I won’t bug you about it.” 

He was definitely going to bug her about it, but later. Maybe when they’d both gotten more sleep and he was less likely to fall into a well practiced railing against the mercurial Tyrells. People could say anything they liked - or disliked, as the case often was - about the Lannisters, but his family never pretended to be anything they weren’t. Tywin was shrewd and vicious in all matters of life, business or personal. Cersei would draw blood to protect her children and sliced through society like a hot blade of contempt. Tyrion was cleverer than anyone who crossed his path and made sure they knew it. As for Jaime-

“You know what’s strange?” Brienne asked out of nowhere.

Jaime shook free from his thoughts. “Hit me.”

“Renly didn’t like you. He _really_ didn’t like you,” Brienne replied. 

He made a face at her. “Yeah, yeah, vainglorious, I heard you the first time. See if I make you another smoothie after this.”

Brienne continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “When you moved in, he told me about how he remembered you from boarding school, even though you were some years ahead. He said that you were always… a lot. Loud and cocky and trouble-making and self-centered-”

“Gods, a man could get a complex, Brienne. Have a care, would you?”

She glared at him. “Would you let me finish?”

“Will you stop pummeling my self-esteem?”

“I think it would take a lot more than anything I could say to have any effect on your self-esteem,” Brienne said blithely, missing Jaime’s wince, “and what I’m actually saying is I think he didn’t give you a fair shot.”

Jaime tried to cover his surprise by staring down at his own glass. “Oh.”

“You’re not,” Brienne said carefully, “what I thought you’d be. If I’d gone off of what only he or Loras had ever said, I wouldn’t have come up” - she waved a hand in his direction - “with this.”

“A devastatingly handsome ne’er do well?”

Brienne shook her head slowly, a small smile on her face. “A decent guy who watches out for his friends.”

“Decent” - Jaime forced a scoff - “that’s a new one.”

“And who can’t take a sincere compliment, apparently.”

“Lannisters aren’t much for sincerity,” Jaime replied.

“You are,” Brienne said plainly. “You have been from the moment we met. Maybe I didn’t see it before, but I do now.”

Jaime tipped his glass at her. “Don’t go spreading that around, I have a well established reputation to uphold.”

Brienne opened her mouth to reply but made a strange expression and looked down. “Someone’s awake.”

“Kicking?” Jaime asked, leaning forward to see just as Brienne eased back in her seat and poked at her stomach. 

“Not yet, mostly just fluttery feelings? Like bubbles, if that makes sense.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Think gas.”

Jaime laughed. “Ah, the wonders of pregnancy.”

“Don’t get me started,” Brienne said with a tired tone, the facade slipping once more in his presence. What it was that made her voice go low and honest, Jaime didn’t know. But he couldn’t deny recognizing it or being greedy for it, that he got the truth when Margaery didn’t. “I know I offered to let this kid hitch a ride with me, but it’s a whole other thing actually being pregnant. It’s exhausting and I ache all over and… it’s hard. Aside from Renly and Loras, it’s just hard.”

“You know” - Jaime barely pondered it before continuing -“if you need anything, just ask. Let me exercise that decency you claim I have. It’ll shrivel up and die if you let it go unpracticed.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Brienne gave him another small smile and ducked her head down, fiddling with the straw. “You’re all right, Jaime Lannister, even if you don’t think so.”

And that went right in the face of what he had been thinking, didn’t it? He’d always found satisfaction of doing what he pleased when he pleased, content to know that if his family was happy, he was too. Jaime didn’t ask for much more than that, didn’t think to expect it, let alone hope for something greater just for him. But that had changed. 

Brienne was spinning the emptied glass between her palms, oblivious to Jaime running his eyes over her, wondering what it would take for her to completely drop the armor in his presence. If it was something she would ever even allow. If it was something he could even handle. 

_Too complicated_ , Jaime mocked himself, _yet here I am._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Slips](https://slipsthrufingers.tumblr.com/), [Nire](https://nire-the-mithridatist.tumblr.com/) and [Luthien](https://luthienebonyx.tumblr.com/) \- you are some amazing ladies and you made this chapter so much better. Thank you.

“Let’s see, in this one I’ve got carrots, this weird purple thing, some lemons, those herbs you suggested, onions - yellow and red, not that I know what the hell the difference is, you’ll have to tell me - broccoli...” Jaime dug around the bottom of the bag and popped up with a bag of rice. “Found it!”

Ellaria, her face rendered somewhat flat on the tablet screen, gave him an indulgent look. “I should have known you’d throw yourself into this as much as you do anything else.”

“Uh-uh, none of that. There’s nothing to read into, El,” Jaime replied. He tossed the bag of rice from one hand to the other and then on the counter next to the tablet. “I was challenged, that’s it. I couldn’t let that shit stand.”

“Did Brienne specifically say: Jaime, I challenge you to learn how to cook,” Ellaria asked with a cocked eyebrow, “or did she make a passing comment that you have now turned into a giant pile of spiteful groceries in your kitchen?”

Jaime looked at the two bags he had yet to empty and muttered, “Just tell me what to do.”

Her laugh was just like Oberyn’s, a husky giggle deep in the back of her throat. “Well, you’ve got enough to feed any number of pregnant women who happen to wander by your home, so we’ve got options.”

“I’m not feeding her,” Jaime insisted, “that’s not what this is.”

“So it’s a journey of self-improvement, I see,” Ellaria nodded, slow and sarcastic, “who am I to stop you?”

Jaime took a knife out from the drawer and waved it in the camera’s direction, but she only giggled again. 

At Ellaria’s instruction, he started gathering equipment. It took him a good couple minutes to locate a saucepan, only to find it coated with a thin layer of dust and then she started yelling at him for using the wrong scrubber to clean it. Her voice rose again when he dared to put unwashed produce on the chopping board and Jaime started to reconsider the wisdom of asking her for help.

“I fear that there will be many, many calls before you can actually finish an entire meal,” Ellaria observed, looking far too fed up for less than fifteen minutes work. “This is not the true purpose of video chat, Jaime.”

“I know what you think the true purpose is and I’ve never agreed to that,” Jaime warned her.

Ellaria waved away his stern tone. “Please, as if I expect for you to ever darken our doorway again.”

“What?” Jaime spared her a confused glance before resuming chopping up an especially potent onion at her direction; he had to blink away the sting of it. Tiger, who had been following at his heels up until then, completely abandoned him to tuck into a pillow in the living room. “Of course I’ll visit you guys, I need to finalize the Sunspear merger pretty soon.”

“Not in that fashion, darling,” Ellaria said leisurely. “Now that you have Brienne, Oberyn and I know that our dalliance has come to an end.”

Jaime hesitated and then dropped the knife completely. “ _Have_ Brienne? How many times do I have to tell you, Ellaria, it’s not like that-”

“You spend a great deal of time together, you constantly bring her up in conversation and then expect me not to ask about her. I’d like to get to know the woman myself, but you refuse to introduce us.” Ellaria gave him a wounded look. “Why do you deny me this, Jaime?”

“Because you would terrify her,” Jaime hissed back. 

Ellaria pouted. “I would be nice.”

“That would send her running for the hills. I know your brand of nice and it’s not like anyone else’s.”

She raised her hand up to the camera, tapping her fingers against her thumb as she mimicked, “ _Not like anyone else’s_. Pah, you are an ungrateful man.”

“Sure, El, whatever.”

That was a mistake. No one dismissed Ellaria Sand and got away with it; Jaime tensed before her eyes sharpened and she leaned forward. “You want my assistance? There is a price to pay now, Jaime Lannister. Take it or leave it.”

Jaime looked around at the counters covered with groceries and sighed. All he had managed to do was clean the saucepan and chop up some onion and hells if he knew what he was supposed to do with it next. His shoulders slumped and he looked back at Ellaria. “Fine. What.”

Ellaria sat up straight, a smug smile on her face.

“Don’t play with your food before you eat it. You got me, so just ask, damn it,” Jaime grumbled. 

“Oh, no, I’m going to enjoy this.” Ellaria clearly luxuriated in her triumph. “Jaime Lannister is going to finally answer questions about the object of his affections-”

“For gods’ sake-”

Her glare cut him short. 

“Yes, fine, yes she is, okay.” Jaime picked up the knife again and started hacking randomly at the onion, ruining his previously - surprisingly - neat work. “I like her. That’s hardly a surprise.”

Ellaria put her elbows onto the table in front of her, dropping her chin into her joined palms. “What is it about her that’s caught your attention? I need to know. If you refuse to let me meet her, at least tell me what I’m missing out on. And stop destroying that poor onion, it’s done nothing to wrong you.”

Jaime scooped the onion bits into a bowl and took a deep breath, girding himself to reply. “Brienne’s… genuine, I suppose is the most fitting thing I can say. She says what she means, except when it’s something she thinks will hurt someone.” Margaery’s face came to mind and, as much as he resented her negligence, he couldn’t deny that she had truly looked as if a stiff wind could knock her over. It almost made him feel sorry for speaking to her the way he had. Almost. “You can practically see her make the choice to be kind instead.”

He glanced at the tablet to see Ellaria’s eyebrows pop high on her forehead. At his questioning expression, she said, “I suppose I was expecting an ode to her fabulously lengthy limbs. Oberyn and I have certainly discussed them enough.”

“How do you know that?” Jaime asked suspiciously. “And, wait, you and Oberyn _what?”_

Ellaria smirked. 

“El.”

“We may have done a little digging when you began so blatantly avoiding our queries.” She didn’t look the least bit ashamed to say it. “She doesn’t have a presence on social media, but Renly did and she makes a few appearances. I must say, those eyes, my goodness.”

“I know,” Jaime said heavily and then recalibrated. “You guys could easily become that weird creepy couple if you don’t watch yourselves, you know that, right?”

“I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths if you didn’t avoid the subject,” Ellaria admonished him. “Now get the herbs and I’ll teach you how to properly chiffonade if you tell me more.”

Jaime paused. “Tell me where to find those photos?”

“Herbs, Jaime.”

“Fine, for fucks sake.” 

Ellaria guided him through the herbs and picking out the appropriate ingredients for a marinade. She allowed him to get away with focusing on the task at hand for a while, not asking anything until he’d searched out a pot and lid, and then again until he found a matching set. 

Once she was satisfied, Ellaria asked him again about Brienne and he admitted, “I like being around her. Spending time together. She’s not, I mean, in comparison to most people I know, she doesn’t ask anything of me. I don’t have to…”

“Perform?” Ellaria asked. 

Jaime grimaced and gave a curt nod. 

Something about it made Ellaria smile contentedly, though he couldn’t have explained why. More blatant was her pronouncement of, “Tell the truth, you want to pursue her.”

“Obviously,” Jaime retorted. That had never been a question for him. Whether it was right or not was something else entirely. 

“So why haven’t you done something?” Ellaria looked downright vexed. “What in the world is holding you up?”

“She’s _pregnant_.” Jaime clenched his hands in the air in front of him, shaking his fists slightly at her. “How do you two not get that this is an issue?”

“What, you don’t like how she looks? I never thought you were so shallow-”

“You’re getting it wrong _again_ , damn it, Ellaria.” Jaime groaned loudly. “She’s vulnerable, I wonder half the time that if she weren’t going through this shit whether she would have given me the godsdamn time of day. If she still had Renly - who apparently fucking hated me, by the way - we never would have spoken, let alone gotten to this, this…”

“Relationship,” Ellaria finished for him.

“Friendship.” Jaime shook his head. “That’s all it can be right now. I won’t take advantage of her. She’s been through too much already.”

Ellaria stared at him for several long moments before she swiped at her curls and said, “Well, that’s just absurd.”

Jaime wanted to scream.

“She is still a woman, do you think those desires go away because there’s a child within her? What excuse will you use after she’s had the baby - that she’s a brand new mother and she couldn’t possibly have time for you? Honestly, Jaime.”

Whatever look he had on his face, it made Ellaria draw back. 

“Jaime? What is it?”

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, then did it again when the first did nothing to ease the tumultuous roll in his stomach. “I don’t know that she’s keeping it. She won’t talk about it.”

“Not keeping it?” Ellaria was, for once, genuinely astonished and at a loss for words. “But… then… what?”

“She won’t talk about it,” Jaime repeated. 

Ellaria sat back in her seat, her fingers to her mouth as she considered it. “That doesn’t make any sense. The fathers are gone, who else will take responsibility for it?”

“I don’t know.” Jaime regretted saying anything at all. As good of friends as Ellaria and Oberyn were, they tended to have an expectation that everyone had the same single-minded focus as they did. The complexities of his current situation seemed to be lost on them. “ _She won’t talk about it.”_

For all their time spent together and the few times Jaime had dared broach the subject, he’d found himself steered away from Brienne’s thoughts on the matter. No matter how many meals they spoke over, walks shared, her answer was always, “Their families still have to decide.” Nearly six months in, just over three to go as far as he knew, and they were no closer to a decision. In his less generous moments, he half wanted to hunt Margaery Tyrell down and drag her before Brienne to face the issue. Kidnapping, unfortunately, wasn’t a viable option. 

Jaime said as much to Ellaria, who continued to tap at her lips. In the face of her wordless scrutiny, Jaime at last said, “She’s going through enough right now, El. I just look at her and I can see how she’s all wound up, how hard she’s trying to keep it together and I can’t change that, I can’t _fix_ it. All I can do is be there for her and not make it any more of a fucking disaster. I like Brienne, fine, I do, but I can’t just do whatever the hell I want. There’s too much at stake. You need to understand that.”

“I see,” she finally said, slowly. 

“Then, just… leave it, okay?”

Ellaria only gave him a studying look. 

“El.”

“You’re thinking far too fatalistically, Jaime. No one is asking you to fix anything, I’ll hazard a guess that Brienne wouldn’t ask that of you in any case.”

“ _Ellaria._ ”

“At the very least be honest with her, express your interest, tell her that you care for her, because you clearly do. What is so wrong with bringing that happiness into her life? Especially when it’s you?” She leaned forward again, a viper posing for the strike. “Do you really think she’s the only vulnerable one here?”

Jaime frowned at her. 

“You, Jaime Lannister, who hadn’t touched a woman in _years_ before we offered our company. Do you not think we saw how guarded you were? How protective you still are of your heart? No one needed to _fix_ you, but look at how you have allowed yourself to care this much. It’s not to our credit, but you must recognize that the Jaime we first met wouldn’t have dared go this far, to even take the chance to be part of her life.”

At his stunned silence - in the moments Jaime used to gather himself, floored as he was from her rapid fire, warmhearted rebuke - Ellaria pretended to brush off some lint from her shirt, her focus too intent to be anything but her own attempt to regain some composure. 

“Ellaria...” Jaime started and then didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t get in your own way, Jaime,” she said seriously, not quite looking at the camera. “It would break my heart.”

“I’m not trying to do that,” Jaime replied. His throat felt strangely dry. The thought flitted through his mind, that he’d never seen Ellaria the least bit discomfited, but in that second he got the faintest hint of it. “I just… I need to be careful. For her.”

“And for you.” Ellaria nodded once, as if she was coming to an agreement with herself. 

“Maybe.” He felt slightly shaken. Ellaria. Of all people to know him better than he possibly knew himself, Ellaria. 

Her voice was gentler when she said, “You can be careful and still move forward, Jaime. She may not be ready to lay herself bare, but that doesn’t mean you have to remain at a standstill.”

Humbled and strangely grateful for his friend, Jaime sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”

Perhaps it was because he was finally agreeing with her, that she’d gotten at least one answer she wanted, but Ellaria visibly loosened and said, “Very well.” 

“So, cooking lessons? Can we get back to that?” Jaime asked hopefully. 

“I suppose we could.” She brushed her hair back again and smiled. “In that case, get out your mesh colander, you’ll need to wash out the rice.”

“With what, soap?” Jaime asked, mystified as he picked up the bag in question. “And what the hell is a colander?”

He looked over just in time to see Ellaria drop her forehead into her palm and bemoan, “We have so much work ahead of us.”

###### 

“I swear, it smells like they burned something,” Brienne said as she pilfered through the take out bags on the coffee table. At their feet, Salmon curiously perked up from where he’d curled into a ball on top of Tiger; at Brienne’s firm _no_ in his direction, he settled back down with an irritated mewl. “You smell it, right?”

“It looks fine to me.” Jaime gave the box of noodles a sniff and passed it along to her. “I don’t smell anything.”

Brienne groaned. “My damned nose, it has a mind of its own nowadays, it’s so sensitive. I would have put money down that there was something charred in here.”

He stopped rustling at the bags with realization. “Oh, that might have been me then.”

Brienne gave him a bewildered glance.

“A few days ago,” - and the week before, and a couple days before that, to Ellaria’s continued amusement - “I, um, I may have lost track of something on the stove.”

“Do I need to revoke your kitchen privileges?” Brienne said it with an easy smile and it left him off kilter; it was as if something had changed, but so subtly that Jaime couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Nevertheless, he smiled back at her, glad for the bit of lightness that had been missing for so long. 

“You presume I merited any to begin with,” Jaime said dryly. He’d been so hopeful the last time, had followed Ellaria’s instructions as carefully as possible, only to get distracted when she harassed him about Brienne again. Well, _he_ said harassed; Ellaria claimed she was just checking in, not that he had anything to add to their original conversation. 

If Brienne was interested in any further explanation, she was herself distracted by her dinner and left Jaime to his poorly concealed embarrassment. He wasn’t used to failing, in fact he counted on being able to get his way on a regular basis. His entire job - in the company he shared with his brother - was getting a read on opposing businesses and finding a way to make them meet in the middle and Jaime was _good_ at it. Inventive. Persuasive. And, when the occasion called for it, brutally direct and commanding until even their most reluctant clients fell into line. He was fiercely proud of the work that he did and his capability at it. 

But then Ellaria mentioned Brienne and there he went off on a tangent, scorching the damn chicken again. In the end, it was barely fit enough for Tiger to scarf down and even the dog turned his nose away more often than not. 

Jaime half thought she was doing it for shits and giggles at this point. 

He did his best to put the thoughts out of his mind, turning the television on to play The Harrenhal Curse. They’d already gotten through the lengthy documentary that Brienne had first mentioned. When he’d chosen a slasher movie on Tyrion’s glowing recommendation, Brienne had insisted on watching with the lights bright all around them, solemnly swearing that if she had nightmares, she would be banging on Jaime’s door so that he could keep her company until she could fall back asleep.

(“ _You sly little minx,” Ellaria had observed with a grin when he explained it earlier that same day. Jaime pretended not to preen._ )

Halfway through, however, Jaime began to regret his choice, as Brienne had seemingly forgotten the meal in her hands, eyes growing wider and mouth agape as the plot progressed onscreen. Jaime realized he’d lost his appetite completely at a horribly bloody jump scare that soon transitioned into a massive fire, with bodies writhing within and the screams-

The screen blinked off. 

Jaime looked over at Brienne, who was holding the remote in front of her, a disturbed look on her face. 

“That was probably for the best,” Jaime said, feeling queasy, “it seemed rather…”

“Horrible,” Brienne agreed.

“I mean, the violence was just gratuitous,” Jaime admitted. So much for possibly comforting Brienne in the middle of the night. _He_ wasn’t going to attempt sleep at least for a day or two. “My brother insisted it was good.”

“Your brother needs to get his head examined,” Brienne said with a disbelieving laugh. “The violence was one thing, but the _acting_.”

“...what?”

“Come on, the guy with the lisp? What was _that_ about? And the whole plot was completely hackneyed, they’re in this supposedly haunted house, they hear screams coming from everywhere _and_ blood starts pouring down the walls and not one person says that maybe they should get the hells out of there?” Brienne sniffed with disdain. “What a waste of time.”

“Takes more than that to scare you, I suppose?” Jaime asked, delighted by Brienne’s offended expression. “You’re a movie snob!”

“My time is valuable,” Brienne said hotly.

“You finished off five seasons of The Real Housewives of Asshai in the last month.”

“That’s supposed to be mindless,” Brienne argued back. “Better than a movie that wastes so much beautiful cinematography on a half-witted screenplay.”

“Wow, who would have guessed Brienne Tarth was so judgy,” Jaime said with wonder. 

“Oh, be quiet,” Brienne mumbled and turned back to her meal. 

As funny as it was, abandoning their original plans left them at loose ends and Jaime suggested going out for a movie instead, handing Brienne his phone to pick something in an effort to make up for his own poor choice. He was tossing their trash when Brienne’s recitation of movies and showtimes stopped with a, “Oh, uh, Jaime?”

“Keep going, pick whatever you want, anything to clear that mess out of my head.”

“N-no,” Brienne stammered and then made a funny little noise and he looked up in time to see her fling his phone away from her onto the couch cushion. Salmon - who had since found his way onto the couch and had been purring mightily under Brienne’s hand - went over and sniffed at it. 

Brienne’s eyes were round as saucers when she looked back at him, a blush saturating her cheeks. “You got a message. Sorry, it just popped up, I didn’t mean to see.”

_That_ wasn’t promising. 

Jaime retrieved his phone, unease creeping in when he saw it was from Ellaria. He felt something inside him cringe when he saw she’d written _It’s been too long, my dear, do we have to pay you a visit?_ That she’d sent a picture immediately after, an artful capture of her hand clenching the back of Oberyn’s shoulder - nothing explicit, no clear visual of their faces but for a blurry streak of red that was surely Ellaria’s mouth - that was really what made him immediately want to dig a hole into the earth and bury himself within it. 

“Do,” Brienne said haltingly, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she searched for words, “do you need to be somewhere? I can go.”

“No,” Jaime said firmly. Sighing, he wrote back _really bad timing el but you knew that didnt you_ and held the phone long enough to get a kissy-face winking emoji in response. He really should have known she’d been up to something when she’d ferreted out his evening plans. All the same, Jaime couldn’t disguise his fondness when he muttered, “What an asshole.”

Brienne looked even more confused. 

“It’s just a friend,” Jaime said and lobbed the phone onto the coffee table. “She’s just fucking with me. Wait, no, that’s not - that’s not what I meant,” - oh gods, kill him now, it’d be the kindest thing - “I mean she’s trying to get a rise out of me, _fuck_ , you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Sure,” Brienne replied, drawing out the vowel with obvious uncertainty.

Jaime collapsed onto the opposite end of the sofa, threw his head back and groaned. 

“I’m not under any illusions here, Jaime,” Brienne said with what she probably thought was a supportive way. “You’re an attractive guy. I’m sure you date, that you have, well, _friends_. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“That’s the thing, I really don’t,” Jaime replied, too frustrated to acknowledge her compliment. Any other day, he would have relished in it to a ridiculous degree. “Not like that.”

“So you haven’t slept with her?” Brienne asked doubtfully.

_I hate you so much_ , Jaime thought in the general direction of Dorne. “I guess I can’t say that, either.”

Brienne squinted at him, her face tilting adorably to one side. “So it is like that.”

Jaime groaned again and decided _fuck it_. It’d never been embarrassing before, he’d never been ashamed of their arrangement, but it was far worse to leave Brienne with a skewed view of the truth. “Not in the way you think. That was Ellaria. She’s married to Oberyn, I’m sure I’ve mentioned him.”

“You have,” Brienne replied and then looked alarmed. “You’re having an affair with your friend’s _wife_?”

“I don’t think it qualifies as an affair when both of the married pair are involved?” Jaime spoke tentatively and waited for the penny to drop. When it did, Brienne’s eyes went wider than before. “It’s something we agreed to a few years ago on one of my business trips in that area. They’re an interesting pair and we became friends. One day they suggested it and I didn’t have any reason to say no.”

“Oh.” Brienne’s eyes skittered away from his. “Wow.”

“It’s only happened a handful of times and it’s more stress relief than anything else,” Jaime said, shifting sideways on the couch and shrugging, hoping he conveyed just how casual it was so that Brienne looked less bowled over. “I’ve never been particularly good at, well, dating. And when they propositioned me, I’d been single for a while. Doesn’t happen every time I visit and I think if it never happened again, we’d fall into a regular friendship easily enough.”

He said the last of without much thought, but Jaime was pleased to realize the truth of it. He hadn’t given Ellaria and Oberyn the credit, at least in the beginning, that they saw him as more than an occasional bed partner, but in the time since he’d found a true affection for them both. Amazingly, he felt something similar from them, something that didn’t seem to hinge on anything physical at all. 

“That’s… very mature,” Brienne replied. “For them and you.”

“Never been accused of maturity before,” Jaime chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t think it would work so well if the two of them weren’t absolutely devoted to one another. Sometimes they get so caught up in it, I kind of end up watching more than anything.”

He hadn’t meant to say as much, but the sight of Brienne eyes sparking with amusement relaxed his shoulders and he added, “They forgot I was there once, I’m sure of it.”

“Aww.” Brienne struggled to speak around the laughter clearly building within her. “Did you feel left out in the middle of your threesome?”

“You know, I _really_ did,” Jaime said with enough miffed emphasis that Brienne finally burst into laughter and he grinned widely at her. Her face glowed with amusement at his expense, but he couldn’t possibly mind, it’d been far too long since he’d seen her so lighthearted, and surely not in the time since they’d become friends. That in mind, he tacked on, “Rather rude of them, as a guest I had the right to certain courtesies. That was downright bad manners.”

Brienne brought her hands to her face and laughed into them, patches of her blushing skin peeking through her spread fingers, words muffled when she said, “Only you, Jaime Lannister.”

“I think the whole point is that it’s not only me,” Jaime retorted and laughed with her this time. 

She dropped her hands with a sigh and leaned her shoulder into the couch, mirroring his pose. “Your life is interesting, that’s for sure. I haven’t-”

At her hesitation, Jaime motioned with his hand and said, “Come on, I told you my thing.”

The arch look Brienne sent his way was magnificent, but she admitted, “I haven’t had nearly as colorful a history, was what I was going to say.”

“Hey now, that’s the only sort of arrangement I’ve ever had,” Jaime protested. “Everything else has been pretty damned run of the mill.”

_Except_ , but no, he didn’t want to think of that. Jaime shook his head and motioned again, encouraging Brienne until she said, “There was a boy I grew up with, Bryen, but we really only hung out because we were the only ones the same age in our neighborhood. When his parents decided to move, he suggested we just get it over with-”

“ _Get it over with?”_

Brienne threw her hands in the air. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Well, I’m overwhelmed by the romance, I don’t know if I can take anymore.”

“Says the man who got sidelined in a threesome.”

“I never said it was romantic. The whole point is that it’s not romantic,” Jaime pointed out.

Brienne scowled him into silence. “Anyway, that was that. Then in college I dated this other guy, but he turned out to be a total asshole and I dumped him. Nothing since.”

Jaime did the math in his head, figuring she’d been single for the last five years at least. He wanted to tell her that he’d had periods of similar length where he was alone, especially if they didn’t count his arrangement with Ellaria and Oberyn. His thoughts paused on that and he found himself hesitantly asking, “It doesn’t bother you, does it, that I’ve been with them both?”

“Why would it bother me?” Brienne asked.

Jaime shrugged again. How could he say _because I’m worried it’ll change your view of me and not in the way I want_ or maybe _I’m still hoping you’ll give me a chance one day, but it’s less likely if this part of my history weirds you out_ without starting a conversation he wasn’t sure she’d be open to just yet?

“I’m literally pregnant with the child of two gay men,” Brienne said bluntly and Jaime’s eyes flew down to her ever growing stomach, astonished he’d forgotten it even momentarily. “Why would you think I’d have a problem that you’d been with a man?”

“When you put it that way,” Jaime mumbled. 

“But…” Jaime watched her closely as she obviously weighed out her question and then blurted out, “How do you not date? I mean… look at you.”

He laughed and it sounded false even to his own ears. Brienne heard it, too, she must have with the way her face screwed up in consternation. Even Tiger reacted, his head popping up from where he’d been laying the entire time to rest his furry chin on Jaime’s knee. 

“I…” Jaime trailed off and turned slightly away, making it impossible for their eyes to meet. He stroked between Tiger’s ears, pretending to focus on that before continuing. “I suppose I learned a long time ago that this” - he gestured at his face - “can bring as much bad as good.”

He couldn’t see her straight on, but there was no mistaking the concern that washed over Brienne’s face, in the periphery. There was no mistaking that she’d heard the way his voice had hitched on _bad_ and it wasn’t surprising that she carefully asked, “What happened?”

There was no way Jaime could answer at first, not with the way his mind flew over the different disasters he’d endured; from an ex that was so brilliant in her philandering that it took him months to discover it, to women who cared more about what they looked like together than who he really was. It was such an easy question to pose, _what happened_ , but who was the last to bother asking it? 

But Brienne had asked. She asked so simply and with such careful warmth that Jaime said, “A lot of things, but it all started with” - he sighed - “with my sister, I would have to say.”

“Cersei?” Brienne asked, her voice thick with confusion.

“Yeah,” Jaime answered. Though as he said it, he wondered at the wisdom of it, of discussing a matter that everyone had spent years putting aside, hoping it would be forgotten entirely with time. But Jaime wouldn’t forget. He couldn’t. 

“Jaime?” Her voice was so soft and worried and it made no sense, no sense at all that it would spur him to speak.

“We were close growing up, we’re twins, you see,” Jaime told her. He saw Brienne nod out of the corner of his eye. “But our mother died after she gave birth to Tyrion and our father was never quite the same. We were shipped off to boarding school pretty soon after.”

“That must have been difficult.”

Jaime scraped a hand through his hair. Was he really doing this? He was, wasn’t he? 

“Difficult, yes, but more so for Cersei than me. I, at least, was close enough that I could visit home on some weekends, spend time with my little brother.” It was something he was always thankful for, because as much as Tyrion was surrounded by nannies and the help, Jaime was never sure how much love his baby brother received when he wasn’t there. He’d never regret being there when Tyrion needed him most, no matter what came after. 

“Cersei was sent clear across the country to the Stormlands. We’d see each other during the summers, but Cersei hated Tyrion and hated being around him, because she believed he was the reason our mother died, that he made it happen.”

Brienne’s quiet, appalled gasp was as unsurprising as it was fortifying. It reminded him to take a breath, to hold off the fear that tried to set a vice-like grip around his throat. 

“It was like that for years. Cersei and I, we grew apart. She hated that I got to be home more than she did, that I gave Tyrion attention she felt he didn’t deserve. I missed her, but I wasn’t going to punish Tyrion for something beyond his control. But I didn’t know how much she resented me, too, until we turned sixteen.

“We came home for the summer and our father decided that I was old enough to start an internship at his office. If he’d really thought it through, he would have taken Cersei on, she always admired him, looked up to him, wanted to be just like him.” He let out a unamused snort. “If he’d just valued her half as much as he did me...”

Gritting his teeth, Jaime kept going. “Somewhere along the way, Cersei got it in her head that if she worked on me, she would get what she wanted. That I’d give up my place so she could have it. I don’t know why she didn’t think to just ask. She was my sister, I would have done it for that reason alone.”

Concern was radiating in waves from Brienne’s direction, stunning in its strength. “You don’t-”

But he had to. It was as if a steely resolution had struck him, something that made him keep speaking. “She started subtly, opening up to me, talking to me, being nicer to Tyrion in front of me. I felt like we had finally turned a corner. But then it got weird. She kept reminding me how close we had been as kids, how we’d been inseparable, like” - he felt slightly sick to think of it - “we were the same person in two bodies, that someone as beautiful as her could only be matched by someone as beautiful as me.”

Despite the wide expanse of the couch between them, Jaime felt Brienne sit straight up at hearing that. 

“Then one day she went in for the kill, told me if I loved her that I would help her. That as her _soulmate_ , I should do what I could to make her happy. And, gods help me, I believed it. For a brief moment, I really did. But Cersei, she didn’t know when to stop and I suppose she thought I needed more lies, because she started in on this whole tale on how when we were born, she came out first and I was clinging to her heel and that proved how we should always be together-”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah, that’s what Tyrion said.” 

Jaime could still picture it so clearly. He could still recall the sensation of being shocked awake, as if he’d been doused with ice water. Cersei’s trance was shattered from one second to the next. The love and yearning that had welled within him - he’d been ready, eager even, to do anything to make her happy again - had been lanced from his body before he could feel the strike of the blade. 

All because of Tyrion. 

Jaime took a deep breath. Held it. And with a rush of air, he said, “Tyrion had been listening the whole time and that’s when he came racing out. Just imagine a nine year old kid, small, so small, screaming ‘ _That’s not how uteruses work, Cersei_!’”

Brienne coughed out a shocked laugh and slapped her hand over her mouth. 

“It turns out that if you tell a genius kid often enough that he’s the reason his mother’s dead, he’s going to take matters into his own hands and figure out what really happened.” Jaime slowly shook his head in wonder. “I think Tyrion knew more about childbirth at nine years old than most people do in a lifetime.”

“Jaime, that’s…” 

“Disturbing, I know.” He pressed his thumb to the middle of his brow, trying to release the aching tension that had formed as he recounted that horrible day. Who would he have been without Tyrion? What else would she have done if he’d said yes? How long would he have lived with those lies, trusting and believing that his own sister had his best interests at heart? _His own sister_?

“I was going to say,” Brienne let out a long breath, “that it sounds like it was a lot and that it must have been difficult for you. And that I’m sorry that it happened. Truly.”

Jaime could only nod. 

Brienne sounded uncertain, but still asked, “You still mention her, though? It wasn’t, I mean you didn’t-”

“Cut ties with her? No.” Jaime shook his head again, forcefully this time. “She needed help. To get to a point where she felt she had to manipulate me for something, especially with such low stakes, to go so far… Cersei wasn’t well and nobody had noticed for years. Tyrion went to our father, but when that didn’t change anything, he went to our uncle Gerion and aunt Genna. They made sure our father took measures to get Cersei the help she needed.”

“That’s good,” Brienne said quietly.

“It hasn’t been the same, but it’s honestly difficult to remember when things were ever normal between us. I’m not sure how much truth was in it, if she and I were really as close as she said, before Tyrion was born, or if was just another ploy. I’m not sure Cersei knows either.”

“It sounds like she was probably very lonely and misguided, at least.”

“Yeah,” Jaime agreed, almost silently. So many years he’d spent making sure Tyrion was loved, but Cersei... He’d forgotten her almost as much as their father had. Jaime knew he wasn’t responsible for her ill-considered actions, but never had he felt he could completely absolve himself either. “That’s all to say, she’s my sister and I love her, but I don’t think we’ll ever be completely okay. I’m always just a little…”

“Guarded?”

“Yeah,” Jaime repeated as Ellaria’s frustrated voice resounded in his head. He’d never told them, never told anyone, never even discussed it with Tyrion beyond that summer, but somehow she and Oberyn had to have known there was something. 

He looked over at Brienne, their eyes meeting for the first time since he’d started speaking. Her eyes, as blue as ever, were kind and soft and free of judgment. It hit him so fiercely he nearly felt winded from her gaze alone. _They knew I could tell you. Whatever it was, they knew that maybe you were the person that I could-_

Jaime tore his eyes away and swallowed thickly. “So yeah, I don’t date much. I learned a long time ago that I might not be the best at figuring someone’s true motivations” - _until you until you until you, you make it easy, it all shows on your face, in your eyes, it used to all the time, I want to see it again_ \- “and the times I’ve tried, that truth has only been reinforced.”

She didn’t say anything for a long while and Jaime didn’t either. He wasn’t sure if he should feel as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders or chains released from wrists and ankles. There was no sense of freedom that had been thrust upon him, nothing so dramatic as that. 

But he felt, sitting beside Brienne, that he could breathe just a little easier. 

He couldn’t have anticipated her finally saying, “I was in love with Renly. When we first met.”

Jaime blinked rapidly and looked back at her. 

“I was,” Brienne said simply. “We were in the same co-ed dorm and I saw him from a distance and I thought he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. I never would have approached him, but some jerks decided to make me a target for some awful joke and Renly put a stop to it. He’d been on the receiving end of some awful behavior himself and he was kind enough to protect a girl he didn’t know.”

Brienne lifted her hands and dropped them, smiling sheepishly. “So, there was some hero worship in there, too.”

Jaime couldn’t help the grim thought, the image of a less-assured Brienne, of a girl who hadn’t yet learned to shrug off the world’s cruelties. Yes, he could see where she would become attached to someone like Renly, who could pretend niceties at his leisure, when it would cost him nothing. It hit Jaime in that second, in spite of his poor relationship with the man, that he wasn’t being entirely fair. And he was certainly doing Brienne a disservice by thinking such a thing. With that in mind, he asked, “So how’d that change?”

She dropped her cheek onto the back of the couch and shrugged. “Time? Getting to know him as a person and not as a fantasy? Though watching him get ready for dates with other boys certainly had a lot to do with it.”

Jaime quirked his eyebrows and turned to face her entirely, setting his cheek on the cushion, too. 

“It’s not the same, but…” Brienne shrugged again. “I know how it can be hard to read people, how difficult it is to trust them when so many of them are intent on proving how they don’t deserve it. I got lucky, that even though I was wrong about Renly in the beginning, he still turned out to be the best friend I ever had.” 

He felt it then, for the first time, a deep sorrow for her loss. More than sympathy for her pain or a yearning to see her carefree smile again, Jaime suddenly wished he could have known the Renly Brienne had known, the one who had been worthy of her love. The words were impossible to find, so Jaime could only stare at her, wondering what it would be like to love someone that much, to be left behind, to have to bear the fallout alone.

But a smile stretched across her face suddenly and Brienne reached out for his hand, tugging him closer so she could bring it to her stomach. “Kicking. Real kicks this time, feel.”

Jaime spread his hand out and felt. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains discussion of pregnancy, IVF and complications thereof, including miscarriage.

“Between us, I think we’ll be able to make headway with Pyke now. They’ve had opportune time to consider what became of the Karstarks at Winterfell Holding’s hands once our recommendations were taken. They’ve become a bit more pliable.” Tyrion tapped a sheaf of papers against Jaime’s desk. “And seeing as that is the second time I’ve said that, please refrain from making me do so again.”

Jaime looked up from his phone, the grin slipping from his face. “Pardon?”

Tyrion stuck his palm out. “Hand it over.”

“What? No.”

“Hand it over, I say. If there’s something that’s distracting you this much from a multi-million dragon merger, I should at least be able to partake in it as well.” Tyrion gave him a wide-eyed look that had not one iota of sincerity behind it. “Or is it far too salacious for mine innocent eyes?”

Jaime tightened his grip on his cell. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, now I must absolutely see it. Give it here.”

Sighing, and knowing that his brother wouldn’t give it up, Jaime slid the phone across the desk and smirked when Tyrion’s pleased grin dropped away with confusion. 

“It’s Tiger.” Tyrion flipped the phone to one side, as if it would change anything on the screen aside from putting the dog at a ninety degree angle. “This is what you were grinning so stupidly about?”

“I told you it wasn’t what you were thinking,” Jaime replied. He pointed down to the desk, silently commanding the return of his property. Tyrion sent it gliding back at him with a sour expression on his face. “Besides, I did hear you. Pyke, those bloody Karstarks and Winterfell actually benefiting from our consultation. Better to not lord that over them too much, they’ll shoot themselves in the foot just to spite us.”

“I wish I could say you were wrong,” Tyrion said thoughtfully. He gathered his belongings and began making his way for the door, pausing briefly to hold a finger up in the air and say, “Though may I say it’s concerning that it was your dog putting such a look on your face, dear brother. I know I hoped he’d introduce some levity into your life, but do try to maintain the appropriate owner-pet dynamic.”

Jaime laughed as he said, “Get the fuck out of here, Tyrion.”

His brother gave him an insouciant shrug, but made his way out of Jaime’s office all the same. Once he’d gone, Jaime opened his phone again, thumbing away the picture of Tiger tucked into unfamiliar blankets. Brienne’s underlying message of _Look who crept into my bed while I was napping. I thought you were trying to break him of the habit?_ brought another smile to his face.

 _what happens at briennes stays at briennes i guess,_ Jaime wrote back. 

_I can train him the best I can, but you have to work with me on this._

_but look how cute he is all snuggled up_

He could just hear Brienne’s loud groan and envision the amused roll of her eyes at reading what he wrote. It pleased him to imagine it so easily now, because in the past weeks it had shown through more and more, ever since their failed movie night. 

They’d never made it out of the apartment, instead whiling away the hours talking on the couch, focused on more light-hearted fare than what had originally opened their conversation. He told her about his failed attempts at cooking and she’d smiled at his ineptitude, pulling up her phone to show him an array of videos to guide him when he’d abashedly declined her offer to help; he’d rather muddle through on his own than allow her to witness his disastrous attempts. Apparently there was a whole gamut of chefs who posted online, willing to share their skills and - unlike Ellaria - unlikely to resort to sabotage to wheedle information out of him. 

The ensuing time had shown a great improvement in his kitchen competence, but had done absolutely nothing to change Jaime’s feelings. Or, more accurately, they had only firmly entrenched themselves in his mind, with the rampant hope that one day he wouldn’t have to hold back from leaning over to kiss Brienne whenever he wanted. 

Which he wanted. A _lot_. 

He forced himself to return to the contracts Tyrion had left behind for review, intent on finishing them up before the lunch hour hit, going so far as to turn off his cell and stick it in a drawer. Jaime silently promised himself that if he managed to get through this, he’d allow himself to catch up with Brienne after her doctor’s appointment, and perhaps try convincing her to play hooky with him for the rest of the afternoon. Midway through the third contract, however, came an interruption.

Confused by his assistant’s announcement, Jaime stood from his desk, walking around it just as his visitor came in. He’d half-wondered if he’d heard the name incorrectly, but it was indeed Stannis Baratheon trailing behind Peck. 

“Stannis, I must say this is unexpected,” Jaime said as he put out his hand, Stannis meeting it with a firm shake of his own. Peck spoke between them and was summarily dismissed when Stannis declined a drink, though he took the seat that Jaime motioned toward. 

Sitting back down, the desk between them, Jaime gave the man a quick study and said, “Didn’t know you were in town. Any business that Tyrion and I can help with?”

“Not particularly,” Stannis answered. He was doing his own evaluation of the room, eyes caught on the large expanse of windows at Jaime’s back and then the awards placed on a high shelf on an adjoining wall. He stood suddenly to examine them more closely, though Jaime stayed where he was. “I have heard many good things, however. Is this from your work between King’s Landing and Volantis?”

“The very same.” Jaime felt his smile spread wide, automatic, practiced. A familiar defense. There was a hardness to Stannis Baratheon that he’d never gotten a handle on, from the time they were teens at the same school - separated by a couple years - and then on the scant occasions they’d crossed paths through their separate businesses. At least, there used to be. He seemed different now. 

“It was quite a feat, we were impressed in Storm’s End. Our board considered consulting you for an issue we had with Reach Manufacturing, but Robert… well, you know Robert.”

“I do,” Jaime replied shortly. Anybody who knew Robert wished they didn’t know Robert, aside from Ned Stark. That man had impressive blinders on when it came to his childhood friend.

“As long as he has the majority shares, we must abide by his commands,” Stannis continued, a bitterness in his tone. When he turned, his face was much calmer than his words indicated. “There will come a time when I will forge my own path. Until then, what he says goes.”

He sat down again, fidgeting minutely as he did, unbuttoning his coat and then pulling at his cuffs. For Stannis, it practically telegraphed his unease in neon lights. Jaime already felt his body tensing the longer it took for him to speak; it made no difference that Stannis’ voice was far more measured when he spoke again. “It is my understanding that you and Brienne Tarth have formed a close friendship.”

Jaime didn’t answer right away, scrutinizing Stannis and the way the other man held his gaze. It was something like being stared down by his father, but in a faded fashion, like a photocopy of a photocopy. If Stannis hoped to cow him into speaking plainly, he would have to spend many more years emulating Tywin Lannister before he could dare hope to intimidate Jaime into giving in. He finally allowed, “Brienne and I are neighbors and friends, yes.”

“And you know that Renly, that is to say, Miss Tarth-”

“Is carrying your future niece or nephew, I am aware,” Jaime replied. With that, however, he loosened slightly. “I was sorry to hear about Renly and Loras. Please allow me to offer my condolences.”

That, if anything, caused Stannis to tighten even further; his _thank you_ was strangled and Stannis looked away, glaring at something beyond Jaime’s sight. Jaime wondered if he’d managed to inadvertently win a point in whatever game Stannis was trying to play, and regretted it. Whatever Stannis was attempting, Jaime hadn’t intended to use Renly as a weapon, no matter how well-known their brotherly squabbling had been. 

He was still trying to figure out his next move, contemplating where Brienne fit into it, when Stannis said, “I’ll be frank, I am in need of your assistance.”

“You’re in luck then. Lannister Intermediary is always open to new clients, even if they aren’t majority shareholders-”

“Damn it, you know that’s not what I’m trying to talk to you about,” Stannis burst out. 

Jaime sat back in his chair, surprised by the ferocity of the words and more so by how Stannis immediately retreated, running a hand over his face as he did; it struck him, then, why the other man seemed so different. The hardness had given way to something far more brittle. 

Recognizing the need to tread carefully, Jaime said, “I’ll help if I can, Stannis.” Before he could respond, Jaime added, “But let me be clear: Brienne is my friend and if you’re trying to mitigate her relationships like you have her work life, I won’t have it. I’ll have your ass on the street so fast you won’t even realize I shoved you out that window in the first place.”

He heard his own words after they settled between them and thought _so much for treading carefully._

“You misunderstand me.” Stannis crossed one leg over the opposite knee and twined his hands in a loose fist - a transparent attempt to erase his outburst. “I was glad to hear that Miss Tarth-”

“Brienne.”

“Pardon me?”

“Her name is Brienne. She’s carrying Renly’s child, surely you can refer to her a little less formally.”

Stannis’ mouth twisted slightly, but he said, “I was glad to hear that Brienne had made a friend, she… I knew she wasn’t happy with my request, but she has seemed less burdened in recent weeks. I don’t know how much influence you had on that, but since it coincided with her speaking more of you and Margaery Tyrell, I thought it was a reasonable correlation.”

He had so many questions, particularly at the mention of Margaery, but Jaime only nodded for him to continue. 

“I’ve come to you today because despite my attempts, Miss Ta- Brienne has been reticent on giving her opinion on the issue of custody. I had hoped that if you and I spoke on the matter, perhaps you would be able to get through to her.”

“Get through?” Jaime’s eyebrows jumped high on his forehead. He could make little sense of what Stannis was saying aside from the most insulting aspect of it. “You do realize Brienne is a grown woman, you don’t have to go through anyone else. Just ask her.”

“I have asked her,” Stannis replied through gritted teeth. “ _Repeatedly.”_

Jaime looked away, his mind tripping up on the many, many times Brienne had demurred to make a comment on what would come to pass after the baby was born. It came out faintly: “She said she was waiting on you to decide.”

“We did decide, weeks ago,” Stannis answered. “Olenna Tyrell and I have been waiting on Brienne to give her agreement, we can’t proceed until she does.”

“And what agreement is that?” Even as he asked, Jaime felt his stomach sink.

“Primary custody will be shared between Olenna and myself, on a monthly basis until such time comes that the child is old enough for schooling and then we will accommodate for it,” Stannis said briskly. “We’ve offered for Brienne to take time in between us, if she wishes to have visitation rights.”

Jaime stared at him in horror. “And you’re fine with that? Bouncing an infant from one coast to another - for _years_?”

“We’ll have an assigned staff, I’ve already begun taking applications for an au pair who will travel with the child,” Stannis replied. “For consistency.”

“Yeah, because that’s what the kid will need most of all, consistency,” Jaime said scathingly. “You’ve got to be joking, Stannis.”

“It wasn’t our first choice, Jaime,” Stannis said back just as witheringly. “We offered to share custody with Miss Tarth- Brienne, whate- but she declined.”

If Stannis had reached over the desk and struck him straight on the face, Jaime would have been less shocked. 

“I don’t.” Stannis hesitated, then seemed to deflate back into his seat. “I don’t know Brienne very well, despite her years as Renly’s confidant. We were all very… different, you see. Renly being so much younger and still quite wild despite his marriage and decision to pursue fatherhood.

“If he were here, I would take him to task for it, the way he and Loras rushed into this last attempt. But patience wasn’t one of his virtues and as soon as Brienne agreed to be their surrogate, they expedited the process, threw money at people until they agreed without going through all the appropriate channels. If they had, we would have had this guardianship issue sorted before… But Renly, that impulsive boy, he was always playing at being a grown up instead of actually taking the steps-”

Stannis stopped. Jaime wondered if he had caught how his voice had gone from disdainful to shaken in those last few words. 

“In any case, I’m left cleaning up the mess,” Stannis seemingly finished. Then, “Damn it all, I wish he was here if only so I could yell at him.”

Jaime looked down at his desk, following the pattern of the wood with his eyes as his mind weighed out possible responses. It was with a sigh that he asked, “What is it you want from me, Stannis? I won’t force her into a decision, if that’s what you’re going for.” That Brienne had a decision in the matter was another thing entirely, but Jaime wasn’t going to say so aloud for Stannis to hear.

The other man shook his head. “No. I suppose I thought… Brienne speaks well of you. I wondered if perhaps she had taken you into her confidence. That you would be able to surmise what caused her to prevaricate now.”

“Well, I can’t. I’ve gotten to know her quite well, but we don’t discuss a great deal in regards to her surrogacy,” Jaime said, more sharply than he’d intended. “And even if she did, it’s still something that you should hear from Brienne herself.”

Stannis nodded slowly. He lifted his hand and rubbed at his eyebrows with his knuckles, sighing roughly. “I’ve known her for years, but it’s as if I don’t know her at all. It was always Renly. She was his.”

“So I’ve gathered,” Jaime said succinctly.

“I’ve tried” - Stannis hesitated again - “I’ve tried to reach out, but we don’t… connect. When she mentioned you, I began to hope that you would help-”

“I just said-”

“-me understand her better. Maybe then I could understand _him_ better.”

Jaime didn’t finish his thought, only let out a subdued _oh_ and then fell silent. 

Stannis abandoned his seat, rebuttoning his suit jacket as he did. “Please excuse my presence today. I only came to King’s Landing to join Brienne at her appointment this afternoon and I thought if we spoke first, I would have an improved grasp on the situation before we met. I see the foolishness of it now.”

He was making his way across the office even as Jaime stood from the desk. 

“You could tell her that,” he said in a rush.

Stannis turned to face him with a wry expression. “What, that I’m a fool? I’m sure Renly told her that for years.”

“Tell her that you miss him. Be open with her about it. It’s your common ground. Find that and maybe you’ll communicate better.” 

“Is that so?” Stannis looked distinctly skeptical. 

“It won’t solve everything. Hells, it won’t fix any problems right away” - he couldn’t see the man in a vulnerable light, but if Brienne knew that he was willing, she wouldn’t deny him, Jaime was sure of it - “but it’ll get you on the right track. Trust me.”

“You sound certain,” Stannis replied, bemused.

“I know Brienne that much,” Jaime said honestly. Then he tapped on the nameplate at the edge of his desk. _Jaime Lannister - CEO - Lannister Intermediary._ “Besides, bringing two opposing forces together? I win awards for that shit.”

Stannis let out a noise that could be generously termed a dry chuckle, but it didn’t last. He had a faraway look on his face and Jaime was sure he didn’t mean to say it: “Would that I consulted you even six months ago, perhaps…”

“I _am_ sorry for your loss,” Jaime told him.

“Yes, so am I,” Stannis replied just as quietly and then he left.

Jaime stood in place, rehashing what had just happened, examining their conversation. If it had been another job, another consultation, he would have sat and written out his observations, made notes for follow ups. Instead he stood still and wondered if Stannis would actually try to _talk_ to Brienne instead of making what were likely sweeping declarations.

Jaime wondered why Brienne had lied to him. 

He shoved that worrying notion aside and thought back on Stannis’ face, how his composure had splintered so easily. Jaime knew what Brienne had lost, she’d made it clear. He’d seen it on Margaery’s face - _Margaery_ , he couldn’t chase that thought just yet, _when did she come back into the picture_ \- but Stannis. As far as Jaime knew, he and Renly had been at odds for their entire lives; the Baratheons weren’t known for their familial affections. Still, he mourned. 

Jaime walked out of the room, past Peck and down the corridor to the other corner office, without putting much thought into it. He didn’t give Shae a chance to announce his visit, he simply strode through the door and dropped onto one of the wide, low chairs next to the desk. It held a near-identical nameplate: _Tyrion Lannister - CFO - Lannister Intermediary._

He felt Tyrion’s eyes on him but couldn’t quite bring his gaze up to match it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Twice this morning, it’s a banner day,” Tyrion drawled. 

“Nothing, I only…” Jaime attempted an unsuccessful smile. He had to clear his throat free of the sudden, ridiculous, thankful lump that had formed. “I wanted to sit in here for a bit, is that all right?”

“Of course,” Tyrion replied, obviously puzzled, but he didn’t say more besides, “Anytime.”

###### 

One of these days, he was going to be able to think of Brienne Tarth and not immediately take action against his better judgment. Jaime was certain of it. 

Today was not that day.

Jaime shifted in the hard seat he had taken in the lobby. Despite housing one of the premiere clinics of all King’s Landing, it was apparent that whatever well-to-do person owned the building didn’t give much importance to the comfort of their visitors. Bearing that in mind, he made a mental note to discuss with Peck what their own lobby situation was and to amend it post haste if it was anything like the plasticky, unforgiving chair beneath him. 

It made little difference, as he finally saw who he was waiting for, jumped to stand and then immediately wished he’d reconsidered the whole endeavor. 

“Jaime?” Brienne gave him a confused smile and then looked at her companions. 

Stannis had recovered his placid expression since their parting, but on Brienne’s other side, Margaery furrowed her brow at him and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Jaime shot back before he could rein himself in. 

Margaery looked like she was ready to return fire, but her attention was caught by Brienne saying, “Oh, it’s happening. Margaery, here.” 

Margaery put out her hand to Brienne’s belly even as she scowled in Jaime’s direction. It melted into a stunned smile within moments. “Wow, that’s really something.”

“We tried throughout lunch to get some movement and there was nothing until now,” Brienne explained. She winced, rubbed at one spot, and added, “He - she? - must know where we are. Probably already bracing for that freezing ultrasound jelly.”

“I didn’t know you were having lunch,” Jaime replied. He felt like he sounded jealous. Was he jealous? He wasn’t sure. What he definitely was, was confused. Where the _hells_ had Margaery come from? “I cut out from work a little early, thought you might want some company.”

What he’d really thought was that if Stannis was going to try to get through to Brienne, he might as well try to be there to make sure the other man didn’t royally fuck up the attempt. Not for Stannis’ sake, but he didn’t like how Brienne was likely walking blindly into an ambush of sorts. 

“Can we find out today?” Stannis abruptly asked. 

“What’s that?” Brienne asked back, leading the whole motley crew of them to the elevator bank, completely missing how Jaime and Margaery glared at each other. 

“If it’s a he or she,” Stannis said, more politely. His hand twitched, as if he were tempted to touch her stomach, too, but he stuck it in his pocket instead. “It’ll be helpful to know.”

“If you’d like,” Brienne replied. Her smile had dimmed, but she rallied and stepped into the elevator when it arrived. “I don’t know if everyone will be able to go in with me, perhaps only one person-”

“Stannis,” Jaime suggested right away. Brienne gave him a surprised look. “Seeing as he” - _is taking custody_ , Jaime almost said, but he wasn’t supposed to know that, was he? Jaime scrambled for another reason - “since he came all this way.”

“If you don’t mind?” Brienne looked back and forth between Stannis and Margaery; Stannis looked cautiously pleased, but Margaery sent Jaime another furious frown. It didn’t detract from the fact that she did look much better, at least to Jaime’s eyes. She remained painfully thin, but he could see where she’d put the effort in her appearance, going so far as to smile encouragingly when Brienne looked at her again. 

They traipsed together to the doctor’s office when the elevator arrived at the appropriate floor; Jaime felt something like a duckling rounding out the end of the line and he took a far more comfortable seat as Brienne signed in. When she chose to take the chair beside him, he felt a rush of selfish triumph and made sure Margaery saw his beatific smile.

If looks could kill, he’d have been poisoned three times over by now, Jaime was sure of it. 

“Thanks for coming,” Brienne told him in an undertone. “It’s a surprise, but a nice one.”

“I was beginning to think I overstepped,” Jaime said back, just as quietly. “I know I didn’t ask, but I thought you were on your own and I didn’t-”

Brienne put her hand over his and squeezed. It made a prickly sensation dance in his chest. “Decency. You can deny it, but I know.”

Jaime grinned sheepishly at her and Brienne smiled back. 

Margaery, the asshole, asked, “So when we did you move from brunch buddies to… this?”

Dropping her hand from his, making everything colder when she did so, Brienne answered, “Jaime’s my friend. He’s been someone I could rely on for quite some time. I’m glad he’s here.”

If she’d meant to drop a _fuck you_ missle directly on Margaery’s head, Brienne gave no indication of it. Margaery, however, felt the impact and flushed a deep red. Jaime probably would have enjoyed it more if it hadn’t been repeating in his head: _Jaime’s my friend, Jaime’s my friend, Jaime’s my friend._

It wasn’t what he wanted, but if that’s all she could give… Jaime sighed silently. Pivoting to Stannis - and acting as if they hadn’t very recently been in each other’s company - he asked, “How is Shireen doing? And your wife? Selyse, is it?”

“Shireen is doing very well, she’s recently taken up the viola and has made great progress with it,” Stannis replied, thankfully catching onto Jaime’s maneuvering. His face darkened when he added, “As for Selyse, there is not much to say. We decided to initiate divorce proceedings about two months ago.”

“Ah.” Jaime searched for a better subject. Did he know anything about violas? Of course he fucking didn’t. 

“Yes.” Shockingly, Stannis didn’t leave it at that and his tone spoke to Jaime on at least a couple levels. “There came a point where I had to ask myself if my life would be better or worse for the changes wrought upon me. I felt it was prudent for my own edification, though I feel Shireen is also much happier now.”

The look he exchanged with Stannis was heavy and once Jaime nodded, Stannis looked away to draw Brienne into conversation - nothing significant aside from how she was keeping busy and if she needed any assistance. It warmed Jaime to hear his name thrown into her answer, even if it was to briefly explain that they liked to pass their free time together. 

When Brienne’s name was called, Stannis offered a stiff elbow for her to hold onto. Brienne looked over to give Jaime a puzzled look, but took the proffered arm and grinned when Jaime sent her a double thumbs up. 

Margaery resolutely ignored him, pulling a magazine from her bag and flipping vigorously through the pages. Each flick and slap of paper seemed especially loud in the otherwise empty waiting room, but Jaime only took out his phone and opened up the noisiest game he had, combating her with the sounds of _swoops_ , _beeps_ and _thwips_. 

If he turned up the volume an inordinate amount, who was to know?

“Must that be so loud?” Margaery asked, honey-sweet and barbed in equal measure. 

Jaime chuckled to himself and replied, “Nope.”

He felt the heat of her glare again and grinned down at his phone; his grin grew wider when the pages in her hands flicked with more fervor. 

It took longer than he expected, but eventually there came the sound of the magazine slapping shut and then being slammed down on the empty chair to her side. Margaery hissed out, “What are you even doing here?”

“You heard Brienne, I’m here as a friend,” Jaime replied, lifting his phone a little closer and adding a sway to his body as he made progress through the level. He should play when he was annoyed more often, he was doing _fantastic_.

“ _I’m_ here as a friend. You’re here as a nuisance,” Margaery spat back.

Jaime let out a derisive snort.

Margaery puffed up like an irritated hen. “I _am_. And you don’t need to be here to- to _police_ me, to make me feel any worse. You said to call and I called, all right? Are you happy now?”

“Nice of you to show up today then. What is she, thirty weeks along now?” Twenty-eight weeks, actually. Brienne might have chosen to keep a great deal close to her chest, but she’d said that much. Jaime shook his head and refocused on the game - he wasn’t ready to think on Brienne’s secretiveness just yet, especially in front of Margaery. “Too bad she can’t be pregnant another thirty, then you could claim to have at least been there for her half the time she needed you.”

“What are you _talking_ about? I’ve been checking in with her for almost a month.”

Jaime’s hands froze. Another secret, then. He grappled to cover for himself, making his voice lazy as he replied, “Bully for you.”

“Gods, you’re a jackass. What game are you even playing, Jaime?”

“Spider-man,” Jaime replied. 

His phone was whipped out of his hands and Margaery’s incensed expression came into view. Why were so many people taking away his _damned phone_ today?

“What. Game. Are. You. Playing?” Margaery repeated. 

He heard the _dum-dum-duuum_ of a losing turn from his phone and grumpily jerked it out of her grip to put it away in his pocket. “I was doing really well there, Marg.”

“Do not call me Marg. We are not friends. Only my friends call me that,” she seethed. 

“So only the sycophants who follow you around, is that it?”

Margaery had finally had enough, apparently, because she started speedily gathering her belongings, stuffing the magazine into her bag with such vigor that it upended the whole thing. She hissed out a curse when the contents scattered and gave him a baleful glance as she began to gather everything up.

Jaime took a breath, raised his eyes to the ceiling and then got down to help her collect the array of loose pens, tubes of lipstick, her phone-

He froze again.

Loras Tyrell was smiling brightly at him from the glowing screen. Jaime picked it up, struck dumb long enough that the screen went dark again and then Margaery snatched it out of his hand. 

She gave him no further notice, stuffing her bag full and then walking to the opposite end of the room, dropping into her new seat with a huff that was clearly meant to disguise how her jaw had gone hard, her eyes glassy. 

_Fuck_ , he really was a jackass, wasn’t he?

Jaime followed and took a seat in the row she’d chosen, leaving one empty between them. He dithered between different things and only spoke again to say, “I didn’t mean-”

“You did exactly as you wanted, like always. Jaime fucking Lannister to the core,” Margaery cut in. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and slanted her legs away from him, turning almost completely in the opposite direction.

Breathing deeply, Jaime forced himself to relax and tried again. “Brienne is my friend and I care for her - very much. And I’m protective of my friends. It wasn’t right that she was alone for so long in all this.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Margaery said back over her shoulder and then turned her profile away. “That I’m proud that I let her down? I know I did. Her and Renly and my brother-”

She broke off and Jaime closed his eyes, regret coursing through him. 

“I’m trying, okay? And even if I give fuck all for your opinion of me, you should know that. _Brienne_ knows that and that’s all that matters,” Margaery continued. “I’m trying.”

“All right,” Jaime said quietly. 

“Now please go the fuck away, will you?”

Jaime answered by crossing the room, where he stayed until Brienne and Stannis returned. 

###### 

Jaime looked at his phone, pressed _decline_ and dropped it back on the kitchen counter. Ellaria. Again. He was dancing along the edge of the knife with that; Ellaria was notoriously impatient even if she was just calling for a chat. But there was only one person he wanted to speak to and even then, he didn’t know what Brienne would say or what he would say back. 

She’d lied to him.

How many times, he couldn’t possibly know. Stannis and Olenna had offered shared custody. She and Margaery had reconnected. None of it, Jaime knew, absolutely none of it had to do with him, it was nothing he should dare be upset over, but he was. In the hours since they had gone in separate directions, Stannis and Margaery whisking Brienne off to parts unknown after she’d emerged with the black and white ultrasound results in her hand, he’d had nothing to do but ruminate over it and wonder what else there was he didn’t know. 

Jaime kept thinking of the last time he’d seen her with Renly, what the other man had said, how he’d said it. _Brienne? No, it’s mine and Loras’._ Standing at his side, carrying his child - if Jaime’s math was right, she couldn’t have been more than a couple months along then - hauling his drunk ass around like she was his keeper, but Brienne had second billing at best. Loras hadn’t even _been there_. Whatever good will he’d formed towards Renly, however much Brienne spoke of her love for him in the time since, it all faded as the memory came roaring back. 

Both men were gone within months, weeks even, and Brienne left surrounded by people who didn’t know how to talk to her, who were too caught up in their grief to be what she needed. And though Jaime tried to be there, had thought progress was being made, it seemed Brienne had been holding him at arm’s length in turn. 

What the fuck was he supposed to think about _that_?

He opened and slammed shut a number of kitchen cabinets, then the fridge. The ruckus would likely have scared Tiger, but he was still holed up in Brienne’s place across the way, safe from Jaime’s foul mood. His phone rang again - this time Oberyn - and Jaime ignored it once more. 

_You’re being ridiculous_ , he told himself. _Acting like a fucking woman scorned. Get your shit together, Lannister._

The concurrent sound of his phone and the video chat on his open tablet was the tipping point and Jaime swiped at the larger screen, barking out, “ _What?”_

Ellaria looked taken aback for a moment and then gave him a narrow-eyed glower. “Oberyn,” she called out, “I’ve got him, darling.”

Oberyn’s face came from out of frame, phone still to his ear. He gave Jaime and then his wife one glance apiece and then slowly backed away from the camera. His disembodied voice quickly faded away, saying, “I’ll leave you to it, love.”

Jaime stood stock still, the stubborn clench of his jaw painful as he refused to let out any words of apology or excuses. Ellaria studied him closely for several irritating seconds and then she said, “Flour.”

“What?” Jaime repeated and he shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for any damn les-”

“Flour,” Ellaria said emphatically. She rattled out a list of items: a bowl, water, salt… Jaime, torn between wanting the turn the video off and knowing that to do that was to risk almost certain death, huffed out a breath and started doing as she demanded. 

Within minutes, his hands were full of clumpy, floury gunk. It caked under his fingernails and combining it into one smooth collection forced him to put his muscle into the work. During that time, Ellaria only commanded his next move, rolling her eyes when he grumbled about what she was making him do. He pulled the whole mass out of the bowl and slammed it onto the counter when she said, feeling a small release when it slapped down. He paused and out of the corner of his eye saw Ellaria hastily smother a satisfied smile. 

“Keep going,” was all she said.

It was hard to hold onto the irritation, the guilt and frustration that had been brewing inside of him all afternoon, when his hands were occupied in such a way. The agitation receded, inch by inch the more he kneaded and thumped the dough down. 

Brienne came to mind, but instead of angry, Jaime just felt… worn out.

Ellaria surprised him by asking, “Bad day?”

“Yeah,” Jaime muttered.

“Ready to talk about it?”

“Not,” Jaime sighed, “not with you. No offense.”

“Oh, offense was taken quite a while ago,” Ellaria replied. 

“El, this isn’t about you. Fuck, it’s not even about me.” Jaime almost scrubbed his face with his hands and held back when he saw they were still sticky from the dough. He stared at them and mumbled - more to himself than Ellaria - “I shouldn’t be this… fuck, I don’t even know.”

He picked up the dough, showed it to her and asked, “What next?”

“Punch it until you stop acting like a quarrelsome child,” Ellaria suggested. “It’s not much use for anything else.”

“...what the fuck?”

“Bread is much more of an exact science, I didn’t even have you measure anything out,” Ellaria explained, a teasing glint in her eye. 

“Then why-”

“Do you feel better?”

Jaime let out an aggrieved groan.

“Well, do you?” Ellaria prompted.

“Slightly,” Jaime admitted. “Very, very slightly.”

Ellaria snickered and Jaime punched the dough as he growled at her. 

Realizing the tension in his body had tempered for the first time in hours, Jaime relented and said, “It got more complicated.”

“I am not in the least surprised,” Ellaria said delicately. Jaime hummed and started throwing the mass around again. “Is it enough to make you want to cut loose?”

His hands clenched down momentarily, the dough squeezing out between his fingers, but the answer was out of his mouth just as quickly. “No.”

“So work it out,” Ellaria told him.

“She lied.” Jaime braced himself. “She lied and I don’t know why.”

“Then find out why.” She stated it as if it were that simple, like he shouldn’t be feeling as if he was teetering on the precipice of something that could send another blade through his chest. “People lie, Jaime. For themselves, for others. I’ve done it. I know for certain that you have, too.”

“Not to her,” Jaime said faintly.

“Haven’t you?” Ellaria’s dark eyes held him in place, boring into him until he had to look away. “How much longer are you going to lie to yourself, Jaime?”

“El-”

What he was going to say was lost the second his phone lit up with a message and with it a picture of Brienne, the candid where she was covering her face by holding a churlish Salmon out in front of her. Jaime grabbed a towel and scrubbed at his hands, quickly saying, “Gotta go.”

“Jaime-”

“I gotta go,” he repeated and shut the tablet closed before she could say anything else. 

###### 

Brienne’s text had only said that she’d gotten home; if Jaime were to stick to their normal pattern, he would have gone over with menus in hand so they could order in, or she’d come over with both Salmon and Tiger to chat before heading back to her place. Instead, Jaime tapped a shorty, hasty rhythm on her door and tried not to pace as he waited for her to answer.

He knew it was rude even as he did it, but Jaime dropped down to one knee once she opened the door, barely saying hello as he beckoned Tiger over until the exuberant dog was dancing around in front of him. He was offered snuffles and a wide lick up the side of his jaw and Jaime gave Tiger a big hug and vigorous scratches along his belly until he fell onto the floor in canine bliss. 

Jaime kept scratching along Tiger’s soft fur, gathering himself, breathing in slowly, before looking up at Brienne. “Hey.”

She gave him a confused look, but it didn’t change the smile on her face. “Hi.”

“Good afternoon?”

“Um, yeah, actually.” Brienne stepped back, inviting him in wordlessly and Jaime followed after her even as he doubted the soundness of it. “Stannis had to head back to Storm’s End, but we went to high tea first, if you can believe it. Say what you will, but those cucumber sandwiches are pretty tasty.”

She turned away from him, putting away the bag that had still been over her shoulder, not seeing how Jaime raked his hand over his face. It still smelled of raw flour, but Jaime could only stare at her and think _are you going to tell me any more than that? Or is it just fucking sandwiches?_

And then, _I really shouldn’t stay._

He knew it. He shouldn’t. 

“Is that all it was?”

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK._

Brienne’s hesitation was so brief - so brief that he nearly missed it, but in that moment he recognized that he’d been seeing it for weeks, and something burned inside his chest. Even so, he swallowed hard and asked, “I mean, he seemed pretty pleased that it’s a boy, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Brienne replied, her voice tighter. “He also-”

She cut herself off and Jaime stepped closer. “What?”

“He, um, he asked- he asked about Renly.” She drew her head back slightly as if she was contemplating a mystery. “About how we met, how we became friends. It was strange.”

“Is it so strange? You knew Renly better than anyone, didn’t you?” Jaime watched as the words reached her and pondered on his unwitting capacity for cruelty when Brienne flinched as if she’d been struck. 

Jaime pressed his lips together, anything to keep from saying something that would make her look more pained. But what he’d done was enough and Brienne gave him a wary look when she asked, “Jaime, what’s going on?”

They stood at loggerheads, Tiger still rolling around between them, trying his best to get someone's attention. Salmon rubbed against Jaime’s ankle and then deserted him when he didn’t reach to lift him up. 

“Jaime?”

“Stannis came to see me. Earlier,” Jaime replied curtly. “Before the appointment. He seemed to think I’d have some - what did he call it, oh, insight - on your train of thought.”

Brienne went pale. Her freckles, never subtle to begin with, stood out in sharp relief. 

“What is going on, Brienne?” Jaime asked. He tried for a soft tone and knew he failed when it came out small instead. “He said-”

“What did he say?” she demanded in return. 

“Well, to begin with he told me about a fucking gods-awful custody plan between him and Olenna Tyrell,” Jaime shot back. At Brienne’s sharp intake of air, he added, “And that you were offered _visitation rights_ , like you’re some kindly aunt that they’re going to allow to take the kid out for ice cream on the weekend.”

“You-”

“And neither of those things are something I could even begin to fathom and I have absolutely no stake in this, I know that. But how can you be okay with it?”

Brienne’s face went hard, her voice slightly shaking as she said, “I’m not.”

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?” Jaime couldn’t contain the distress in his voice. “Why are you just handing off all these decisions to people who aren’t even here? To Stannis? To _Margaery?_ ”

As awful as Jaime still felt for provoking Margaery as he had, it hadn’t been helped by the way Brienne had parsed out the copies of the ultrasound, pressing half into Stannis’ hands and the other into Margaery’s. Even though he didn’t see it happen, Jaime was certain that Brienne hadn’t kept one, that if he looked in her bag, there would be no copy for herself. 

There were times, happier times, in recent weeks where he’d caught her smiling as she felt movement, observed when she grazed a hand over her stomach with a fond look on her face. It was unmistakable. Then, just as suddenly, Brienne would shake her head as if to clear it. Jaime had thought she’d been thinking of Renly in those brief seconds, was keeping herself from falling into a melancholy mood. After today, however…

“You want to keep it,” Jaime realized, thunderstruck. 

Brienne breathed in, hard, and shook her head fervently. 

“Yeah, you do,” Jaime said faintly. It crashed over him all at once, to see, to know, to feel a rending ache at what she was denying herself. “That’s why you haven’t told them yes.”

Brienne made a wounded noise and kept shaking her head. “He deserves better. That’s all. Better than being shunted back and forth between people, better than being raised by some random woman who’s being _paid_ for it. He should have more. I’m waiting for them to give him more than that.”

“Brienne,” Jaime breathed out. He strode forward and put his hands to her jaw. “ _You_ can give him that.”

She jerked out of his grip. “No.”

“Yes, Brienne, come on, you can’t say that anyone would do better,” Jaime insisted. 

“That’s not- that’s,” Brienne took a giant breath and seemed to recover herself, her voice firmer when she finished with, “that’s not my part in this.”

“I think that went out the window a long time ago, Brienne.”

“Stop it,” Brienne told him. She took another step back, looking hunted. Cornered. _Terrified_. 

He tried gentling his voice and failed. “None of this went the way it was supposed to. Stannis told me that, too, Brienne, and I honestly don’t know what it took for Renly to convince you-”

“ _Excuse me?”_

“-to do this for him,” Jaime continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “They rushed into this, rushed you. If they hadn’t, you would have gotten all this sorted a long time ago, it wouldn’t have been a question who got the guardianship when everything went wrong. But it did and you can’t say that any one of them would treat this kid better than you would.”

“Jaime-”

“Stannis is a fucking robot that’s barely discovering emotions, Margaery’s a godsdamn flake and Olenna’s probably going to die before the kid reaches high school - how are _any_ of them a better option?”

“What are you talking about?” Brienne asked harshly, the hunted look gone, her face red with anger instead. 

Jaime struggled to make heads or tails of it. “All three of them-”

“Not them,” Brienne said roughly, “Renly. What do you mean that he _rushed me?”_

“Stannis said-”

Brienne laughed loudly, jarringly. “Oh, Stannis said. Because Stannis was the one who knew everything, didn’t he?”

Jaime faltered, but even as he was going to ask her to explain, the memory that had been running through his mind all afternoon came afresh: Renly drunk and Brienne - newly pregnant Brienne - at his side and flushing deeply when he said that it had nothing to do with her. 

Incensed once more, Jaime said, “Do you expect me to believe that he didn’t pressure you to do it? That he didn’t put you in this position and then leave you without a safety net when things went to shit? Because that’s got Renly _fuck-the-consequences_ Baratheon written all over it.”

“I offered to be their surrogate, they didn’t pressure me,” Brienne shot back. 

“After how many hints, Brienne? How long did they push you until you felt you had to do it, how much guilt did they bury you under until you _volunteered_ yourself for their plight?” Jaime threw his hands in the air. “I can just hear them, playing on your loyalty to Renly, piling it on until you couldn’t help but tell them you’d do it-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brienne shouted. “If you think that, then you didn’t know Renly or Loras and you certainly don’t know me!”

“I remember that night, you must have just told him with the way he was celebrating. Even then he cut you out, it was his and Loras’, no regard to the fact that you were the one carrying his child!”

“That’s how it fucking works, Jaime! It’s not mine, it was never supposed to be mine! I can’t let myself think otherwise or it would destroy me and I’ve already lost enough!”

She brought a hand to her mouth and Jaime recoiled as if her words had punched him straight in the chest. But Brienne looked as if she were the one who had taken the hit, her shoulders shaking, hands tremoring as she brought them together to her chest, lifting arrhythmically with her shuddering breaths. 

Any expectations, any hopes he had that Brienne would explain why she refused to give in to what she so clearly wanted, were swiftly disappointed. Her voice was raw when she said, “You don’t know what they went through.”

Feeling as if the pain on her face, in her voice, was carving an emblem of shame onto his body, Jaime still said, “Then, fuck, Brienne, just tell me. Tell me _something.”_

Brienne wiped at her eyes with the back of her broad hand, once, twice, more. Jaime’s eyes stung as he watched, feeling useless and cruel for causing her tears. Why had he pushed, _why?_

“They tried adoption. It should have been simple, they were both educated. Well off. From prominent families. But it wasn’t enough to offset that it was two men asking for a chance. They never got anywhere.”

Her words were strained, pulled out of her throat as if they were wrapped in a noose. Jaime reached out to her and then reined himself in just as quickly. As it was, Brienne retreated to the far end of the room from him and it hurt to watch as every step separated them further.

“So they tried a surrogate.” Brienne visibly swallowed again. “Margaery.”

It came so clear, so fucking obvious with just one name. Jaime hadn’t known he could feel more ashamed of himself. Dropping his head, he uttered, “Margaery.”

“It was her donation, her egg. It took on the first try,” Brienne informed him, condensing it into short words as if Margaery’s suffering wasn’t far more profound than he could have ever guessed. “And she lost it after six weeks.”

“Oh, gods.” Jaime discovered his hands were clenched into tight fists, nails biting into his skin. “Fuck, Margaery. _Fuck_ , I’m such an asshole.”

Brienne continued without deigning to give a response to his self-condemnation. “She could have tried another time, but it was too hard on her. Loras didn’t want to put her through it again, either, so they got a surrogate through the clinic and used other egg donors. There were several of the Tyrell cousins who were willing. Ilyna, Rosamund, Jeyne, a couple others. They all agreed to keep it unknown, in case it happened again and no one could blame themselves like…”

“Like Margaery does,” Jaime said tiredly.

She nodded in agreement and took a bracing breath, her eyes dry now but her cheeks red with the effort of keeping them so. “So they tried a second time. And it happened again, after five weeks that time.”

Jaime swore under his breath. 

“The third attempt didn’t even take and Renly…” Brienne clenched her jaw, her breath coming more rapidly. “They were going to give up. They didn’t say so, but I could see it. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t _fair_ , if there was anyone who would have loved their child, it was Renly.

“He was my best friend and I loved him. Not in the way I first did, but in a way that I’m going to for the rest of my life. Renly was there for me when some assholes tried to tear me down, just because of how I looked. He took me on family holidays so I wouldn’t feel left out. I was his best woman at their wedding. He took care of me when I lost my dad. He was my _best friend._ ”

Brienne dropped her hands to her hips, standing at her full height, as if that would help her get through it, nevermind that her eyes were giving her away all the while. 

“I offered because it was the right thing to do, because it was a gift I could give them. _I insisted_. I’m young, strong, healthy, I had all of that going for me. Renly was scared that what happened to Margaery would happen to me, but Loras and I convinced him together. _I_ convinced _him._ We moved quickly before _he_ could change his mind.

“I wanted to do it for them more than anyone else in the world. Maybe that made the difference, maybe it was fucking luck, but it finally worked. So he got drunk the night we realized I’d made it the furthest yet, so he could only think of what his and Loras’ child would be like, _so what_? I did that for Renly, I gave that to my best friend.” 

With that, Brienne’s face crumpled, as did all the calmness she’d attempted to scrape together. Jaime raced forward even as she struggled to say the rest, spitting it out quickly in obvious hopes that it would hurt less. 

“But he got on that damned plane and I lost him, and his child lost him and I’m alone and he’s not here to help me this time and I- I have to live with a choice that I didn’t know I was making a-and now there’s someone relying on only me to do the right thing and I don’t know what that is, I don’t- I don’t-”

Jaime wrapped his arms around her, felt her face fall to his shoulder, heard her hitching breaths louder than ever as hot tears seeped into his shirt. Holding her, he could feel every shake of her body, every shudder she let loose, and all he could say was, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Brienne, I’m so sorry.”

He’d never known something could hurt as much as the wail he felt against his shoulder, the beating of her fists against his back. But he took it, every impact, every bruising cry and sharp-edged gasp. The swell of her stomach against his midsection felt like a punishment and a promise all at once and if it felt like that to him on the _outside_. 

Putting his mouth to her ear, Jaime urgently said, “It’s not wrong to want this, Brienne. It’s not. I swear it’s not. You’re allowed to want it, I promise. After all that, out of everyone, who could love him more?”

Brienne only answered with quavering breaths, her body jerking with every inhalation, every exhalation. Her hands clenched on the back of his shirt, nails scraping spasmodically against the fabric; when she tried to shake her head in protest, Jaime told her, “There’s no other choice, no better choice. You’ve got to believe that.”

“I-I can’t,” Brienne cried into his shoulder, “I’m not-”

“You are.” Jaime held her tighter. “Not as a last resort, not as the least worst option. As the best thing, you are the best thing for him.”

A fresh wave of tears was her response and Jaime sighed, hating himself for causing them. 

“Come here, Brienne, come on.”

He maneuvered Brienne to the couch with the intent of wrapping his arms around her again and letting her get out what she needed, but she shifted as he sat, lying on her side and resting her cheek on his thigh. Unsure of what to do, Jaime ran his hand over her hair, relieved when her next gasp was more controlled and she let it out with a long sigh. 

She didn’t speak further and he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t be as useless. Who was there to blame? Who was there to scream at? Renly and Loras were in their graves and Jaime had managed to insult them one last, colossal time. He hadn’t known them. He hadn’t known them at all. 

Jaime didn’t know Brienne as much as he wanted. 

It hurt to realize that she’d held him at arm’s length as much as anyone else; it came in a flash, that maybe that was the point, that she’d held him outside of all of it because it was too painful to be in the middle of it all the time. And instead of giving her that space, he’d pushed and pushed and pushed and _fuck_ , what good was he anyway?

Brienne made a soft noise and he saw that her eyes were closed and her breaths evening out. Jaime hesitantly raised his hand, unsure even as he did it, but Brienne sighed again when he stroked her hair once more. The barrage of emotions had left her eyes swollen, her cheeks flushed and streaked with tears; Brienne had never looked more unshielded and he had to stop himself from running his fingertips over her brow, her jaw, her lips, knew the timing was all wrong even if his care for her was stronger, more tender than ever.

Within moments Brienne was asleep and Jaime could only think of one thing to do.

Knowing too well his own failings in all that had happened, Jaime carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket, turned down the sound and texted his brother. It took some confused exchanges, Jaime cutting off Tyrion’s expected taunts with frank messages, but within minutes he had what he needed. 

_It’s Jaime,_ he typed carefully. _Brienne needs you. She needs both of us. Can you come over?_

Feeling more guilty than he’d ever felt in his godsdamn life, Jaime pressed send and waited for Margaery to write back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere thanks again to [Slips](https://slipsthrufingers.tumblr.com/), [Nire](https://nire-the-mithridatist.tumblr.com/) and [Luthien](https://luthienebonyx.tumblr.com/). The Antipodeans are mighty and I adore them so.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slips, Luthien & Nire - <3 to the best three

For some reason, Jaime couldn’t stop thinking of Cersei.

It made little sense at first, how his thoughts kept returning to her as he waited for Margaery; she’d promised to send a text when she arrived, but Jaime hadn’t asked or told her much else. He was still struggling on deciding on what he _could_ say, what would help her understand why her presence was needed so badly in the wake of his fuck up. Something told him he should be honest about all of it, especially in how wrong he’d been in his treatment of her and - even more importantly - how much Brienne was hurting herself by denying what had to be the right choice in the end. 

But amongst all of it: Cersei. 

His thoughts weren’t of his sister in generalities, but of one particular moment, back during that terrible summer, in the days following her failed attempt to confound him and Tyrion’s snarling defense. She’d cried, just like Brienne, when Genna and Gerion had come to collect her. Jaime hadn’t witnessed it in person, but when Cersei was led by his closed bedroom door, he’d heard his name on her lips, desolate and beseeching. 

He’d stayed in his room, fists clenched against his thighs. The sound of car doors slamming had made him flinch, but he refused to move even then. Years later, Jaime couldn’t be certain what he would have done if they’d come face-to-face. He’d still been too hurt, too furious with her to be level-headed. 

When they saw each other again a year later, she’d been different, more composed. Never apologetic - no, that would never be Cersei’s way - but there had been an almost palpable change in her that made him think things might one day be okay. And it had been, after years of forced interactions that slowly became resigned and then cautiously friendly as Cersei blazed her own trail through life and made her own family. They’d both moved on from it as best they could.

But the way Cersei had cried that day, even when in the arms of people who cared for her and only wanted the best for her… She and Brienne were nothing alike, but Jaime couldn’t help but feel a disquieting kinship with Gerion and Genna, knowing that doing the right thing for someone might not be seen that way in the moment. 

After this, Brienne might not want to see him for a long time. Perhaps never again. All the same, he knew what he had to do. 

Jaime reluctantly pulled himself away when his phone buzzed against his palm. Brienne’s face was softer, more peaceful after almost an hour’s rest, and Jaime staggered slightly when he stood, his legs protesting the movement after sitting in one place for so long. He only had enough time to gingerly put a pillow under Brienne’s cheek when a quiet knock came at the door.

He watched her for another few seconds and sighed in relief when Brienne slept on. 

Confusion clouded Margaery’s face when he greeted her, eyes narrowing slightly when she looked past him and didn’t see Brienne.

“Sleeping,” Jaime told her softly and motioned for her to follow. She followed his lead, practically tiptoeing past Brienne on the couch, Salmon her only company. Sometime after Brienne had given in to sleep, he’d jumped to her side, and curled into a tight ball in the crook of her arm; Jaime had been certain Brienne would wake, but she’d only hugged her arm around the cat and gone still again. 

Tiger was far more lively, forgetting his training in his efforts to greet what had to be a new friend. Margaery ducked down, smiling a little as she rubbed his head and Tiger’s tongue lolled out, already won over. 

“I didn’t know Brienne had a dog, too,” Margaery said when she followed Jaime to the kitchen, Tiger following adoringly behind. 

“Tiger? No, he’s mine,” Jaime said, distracted. He kept his eyes on Brienne, watching for any indication that she was roused by the heightened activity. If she was, it didn’t show. 

“Yours? Wait, _Tiger?_ ”

Jaime only said, “Tyrion” and Margaery said _ah_ and nodded in understanding. Then the smile Tiger had eked out of her disappeared. 

“What happened?”

“We- I mean I-” Jaime fell silent. How was he to start? How had it all started anyway? With him, throwing a tantrum that Brienne had in no way deserved to field? With Stannis in his office? With Renly and every misunderstanding that followed after another? 

He looked back at Margaery and her understandably increasing impatience and admitted, “I upset her.”

“Should I be surprised?” Margaery asked in a dry monotone. 

Jaime breathed in deeply to keep from spitting back a sharp retort. He deserved that, even if Margaery didn’t know he felt as much. 

“It wasn’t an argument, not really,” Jaime explained. “But I asked her about everything that’s going on, and with Stannis and that fucking custody plan-”

Margaery stopped in the middle of putting her purse down on the counter, her surprise obvious. “You know about that?”

“Stannis told me.” Margaery cocked her head and Jaime sighed. “He came to my office, before I met up with you. That’s partly why I went, in case he, I don’t know, in case he made things difficult for her.”

“Looks like you took care of that all by yourself,” Margaery replied disdainfully.

The truth of it blunted Jaime’s already tattered pride; he felt himself slump and fell back against the counter. 

“I didn’t mean to, all right? I swear I didn’t - it just unraveled so quickly and I knew she was holding back, but I didn’t know how much and it all came out and she’s a wreck and I want to be here, I’m going to be here, but” - he closed his eyes and internally squashed his ego the rest of the way down - “I can’t do it on my own. I’m not… I’m likely to fuck it up even more, even if I try not to.” 

Margaery inhaled deeply through her nose as she ran her eyes over him and then in Brienne’s direction. Her expression went even more concerned as she took in their surroundings, though Jaime couldn’t even begin to guess what she was thinking. She drew up next to him, her hands flat on the counter, but her eyes were on the room for a long time. 

“What did she say?” Margaery finally asked when she was done with her curious perusal.

“It’s more what she didn’t say,” Jaime answered. “Though the things she told me-”

Jaime hesitated and gave Margaery a once-over, something she took in with suspicion. “What?” she asked, rocking back on her heels to put more space between them. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t even stop to think what the expression on his face would make her ask that, Jaime only said, “She told me about what happened. With the first pregnancies.”

The color drained from Margaery’s face, her lips going almost blue with the way she bit down on them. Her eyes were sharp and her voice flinty when she said, “Well, you can keep your comments to yourself-”

“I’m sorry,” Jaime told her.

Margaery looked thrown for a moment and then her eyes narrowed again. “That’s what it takes then? For you to act like a godsdamn adult? You heard about my sob story and from that you decide to make amends for the utter asshole you’ve been to me?”

“I’ve wanted to apologize to you since the doctor’s office,” Jaime replied. Margaery started a bit at hearing it and he continued, “I realized I was wrong back when we saw you at the restaurant, and even more today. I forgot who Loras was to you, my focus has been on Brienne with all of this. But it was wrong and I’m sorry.”

She stared at him, leaning back a little more, her eyes unsure. 

When she kept staring for several more seconds, Jaime crossed his arms and irritably asked, “What?”

“Just waiting to see what dipshit thing you’ll say next,” Margaery said slowly. “Because I haven’t once in my life heard a Lannister apologize without turning it back around on the person they hurt.”

The words made him cringe, but Jaime couldn’t deny them. All he could say was, “Well, it’s true. I’m sorry that I hurt you. And I’m sorry that you went through what you did even before you lost your brother.”

“But you were focused on Brienne,” Margaery repeated back to him.

He shrugged restlessly. “Yeah.”

“Brienne who you made cry so badly that you called _me_ for help.”

Jaime threw his head back and took a deep breath. There was nothing to respond with except, “Yes.”

“ _Why_?” Margaery asked fiercely. Her voice raised only a fraction, but Jaime looked back to check on Brienne to make sure she hadn’t heard it. 

Satisfied that they hadn’t disturbed her, Jaime said, “It’s not… look, you’re the one who said it, that she’s always been stronger, that she’s handling this better than you. It’s not true, Margaery. She’s put up a good front for a while now, but tonight she couldn’t do it anymore. And yeah, that’s on me, I was pushing her for answers, but I didn’t- I didn’t know that she wasn’t letting herself…”

“Letting herself what?” Margaery asked, alarmed.

Genna, Gerion and Cersei flashed through his mind. Somehow, they were what it took to screw his courage to the sticking place. 

“She wants to keep it,” Jaime told her. Simple, succinct and likely deserving of censure. He could barely dare to hope that Brienne would forgive him for saying it in her stead.

He continued, making it as clear as possible: “The baby, Brienne wants to keep it, but she’s not even letting herself consider it. Whatever’s stopping her, it’s tearing her apart. And if you’re okay with that fucking plan-”

“I’m not,” Margaery said firmly. “None of us are.”

Jaime drew back, confused. 

“It’s fucking terrible, clearly.” Margaery shook her head. “It was only a stopgap until-”

“Jaime?” 

Brienne’s drowsy voice broke in between them and Jaime turned to find her pushing up from where she lay on the couch, swiveling her head back and forth. He moved toward her without a glance back at Margaery, slowing his pace as he got closer when the sudden, jarring thought came to him, that perhaps she’d hoped he’d gone. 

The doubt vanished when Brienne’s expression opened slightly, relief obvious, and Jaime kneeled down in front of where she sat. “You all right?”

“Um.” Brienne put her fingers to her temples and squinted. “Bit of a headache.”

“Here.” Margaery walked up with a glass of water and handed it over. “If this doesn’t help, I’ll find something for you to take.”

“Margaery?” Brienne gave her a perplexed look and took the glass. “What are you doing here?”

“Jaime asked me to come,” Margaery replied. She sat on the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward as if to brush back Brienne’s rumpled hair, but withdrew before making contact; Jaime would have rather stayed where he was, but moved to sit next to Margaery anyway. “He said you had a bit of a rough evening.”

Brienne briefly cast her eyes at him and then away, drinking down the water and saying, “That really wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”

“No, I think that some of this was necessary,” Margaery said gently. This time she did reach out and push Brienne’s hair back from her face, then cupped the slant of her jaw. “We’ve asked too much of you, Brienne. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I offered,” Brienne said faintly.

“Not with this,” Margaery objected as she moved her hand down to Brienne’s stomach. “With you, everything you’ve been dealing with on your own. I should have been here for you from the moment everything went wrong.” 

“Margaery-”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t said that.” Margaery looked quickly at Jaime and he bit his lip to keep silent. “I’m sorry that I let all of it overwhelm me, that I let my sadness and jealousy-”

Brienne shook her head but Margaery kept speaking. “I know we were never close and it was harder after I lost… and then you were able... “ - she sighed sadly - “I don’t have an excuse, not a good one anyway.”

“You lost Loras,” Brienne said softly.

“And you lost Renly,” Margaery said back just as gently. “I know how much you meant to each other. Maybe he wasn’t your brother, but I know you didn’t love each other any less.”

Tears filled Brienne’s eyes, but she blinked them away and jerked her head to one side, breathing in deeply. 

Margaery traded a heavy look with him and Jaime could see how she was measuring what she would say next, saw the resolution in her eyes right before she turned back to Brienne.

“Brienne, what do you want to do?”

“I…” Brienne wouldn’t look at them. “I could use some more water.”

“About the baby,” Margaery pressed her, so much more carefully than Jaime had, but it made Brienne tense up nevertheless. “What do you want to do?”

Brienne chanced a glance at Jaime, taking in his repentant expression and she propelled herself from the couch, sounding betrayed when she said, “You told her. I can’t believe you told her.”

“It’s the right thing, Brienne,” Jaime replied. He regretted the hurt that made her body stiff and caused her to pace, but he wasn’t sorry for getting the truth out of her, out in the open so she couldn’t try to handle it alone, not anymore. 

“You don’t get to choose that for me,” Brienne told him angrily. 

“I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, but you know it’s the right thing.” 

Jaime tried to keep his voice steady, even logical, but it was hard to ignore the frustration that made him want to grab Brienne by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, to strip away her damnable tendency for self-sacrifice. He wasn’t used to being the sensible one between them, it felt foreign and uncomfortable; it it were a tangible thing, he would have already torn it off and thrown it across the room in a fit. “Are you going to lie and say you don’t want this?”

Margaery’s hand on his arm stopped him from saying anything further and Jaime looked down at it with bewilderment, pausing long enough for Margaery to offer, “Nothing needs to be decided tonight. And nobody is going to make you choose anything, Brienne. But we can’t continue on like this, it’s not healthy for any of us.”

Brienne hugged her arms across her chest and kept pacing. Margaery stood to meet her, tilting her chin up and standing firmly in place until they were toe to toe and Brienne could move no further. She placed her palms on Brienne’s forearms when she attempted to turn away. “Brienne.”

“Margaery, I don’t-”

“Brienne, you haven’t changed anything in here.” Margaery looked heartsick at saying it as she motioned to the room. “The apartment looks like you’re still expecting them to come home. They’re not coming home.”

“Please stop,” Brienne begged quietly. 

“All right, I’ll stop,” Maragery replied, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She squeezed Brienne’s arms, but nodded. “That’s all right. We don’t have to talk about it right now. We’ll have to eventually, but not tonight, if you don’t want.”

Carefully removing herself from Margaery’s grasp, Brienne ran her hands over her face and said, “I’m really tired. I think I just need some rest. More rest.”

“That’s all right, too,” Margaery told her. “Though maybe you should eat first?”

“I’m not-”

“Brienne, please.”

Jaime watched, taking in the quiet way that Margaery made an imploring face and Brienne slowly thawed in light of it, eventually nodding slightly. “Good,” Margaery said with a tiny, satisfied smile. “What would you like?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Brienne replied. “I know I should eat, but I’m still not hungry.”

“I…” Jaime fidgeted when both women looked at him. He felt like he’d broken a spell of some sort, almost expected for Brienne’s gaze to go angry again and perhaps now she would ask him to leave. He would, if she wanted, if she felt better with only Margaery at her side. 

He’d go. He would hate it, but he would go. 

Swallowing hard, Jaime said, “I can make you a smoothie, if you’d like.”

“A smoothie?” Margaery said it like he was offering a plate full of sparrow heads.

Jaime’s attention was only on Brienne as her eyebrows pulled together, her face taut with consideration. There was still a line of tension in her shoulders, a guarded air around her that had gone absent while she’d slept against him. He missed it more than he could possibly say. 

Maybe Brienne saw that, or maybe she was too worn out to care, but Brienne let out a big breath and tiredly said, “He actually makes pretty good smoothies.”

Smiling hopefully at her for what felt like the first time in ages, Jaime popped up from the table and declared, “Yeah, I do.”

Margaery looked back and forth between them both and sighed. “Sure, what the hell, I’ll take one, too.”

Resisting the still-present urge to tell Margaery to make her own damn drink, Jaime only saluted them both and made his way to the door. 

###### 

The dough had gone dry and crusty where he’d left it on the kitchen counter and Jaime hadn’t realized how he’d scattered flour in every direction, so cleaning up took longer than he’d anticipated. It was another twenty minutes before he made his way back across the hall, juggling three glasses and Tiger hot at his heels.

He half-expected Margaery to have locked him out anyway, so it was with great relief that he found that the doorknob turned under his hand. 

“We’re in here.” Margaery’s voice called out through an open doorway to what he knew was Brienne’s bedroom. He’d never been in it - though the thought had crossed his mind more than a time or two, or a dozen times or two, but this was hardly a moment to consider it - and he recognized the bedspread from the photo that she’d sent him hours and hours before. 

“We struck a bargain,” Margaery explained when Jaime stopped at Brienne’s bedside and passed out the drinks. “She can get some more sleep but she has to suffer our company a little longer first.”

“We’re not really that intolerable, are we?” Jaime asked. Brienne was partly tucked under the blankets, her back to the headboard, with Salmon on her lap and her face clearer than when he’d left. Margaery sat on her left, perched at an angle with one foot tucked under her other thigh. He suspected that they hadn’t discussed anything fraught in his absence, but there was something in Margaery’s posture that made him think she was going to try to bring things around again, probably when Brienne was more comfortable. 

“I’m a delight. As for you...” Margaery trailed off but her lips quirked when Brienne groaned in annoyance. It caught Tiger’s attention and he jumped up on the bed then circled a couple times to lie at Brienne’s feet.

“Thought you were trying to break him of that habit,” Jaime couldn’t help but remark.

Brienne rolled her eyes at him and he felt a million times lighter to see it. “If you don’t bother, I don’t see why I should.”

“Because we’ve gotten leagues more civilized since you’ve come into our lives, obviously,” Jaime insisted. 

“Give it another six months, maybe I’ll get you both fit for polite company.”

“Never.” 

“Tiger, at least.”

Jaime frowned thoughtfully. “That’s more likely.”

“You’re probably a lost cause.”

“If you can’t make me mind the straight and narrow, chances are no one else can. Better to accept that now.”

Brienne chuckled wryly and Jaime gave her a wide grin. 

“What the fuck,” Margaery muttered. 

Jaime’s eyes flickered over to hers and he suddenly felt all-too-seen. The best he could muster in response was a grumbled _drink your damn smoothie_ , _Tyrell_ before Brienne could ask Margaery to repeat herself. It made little difference, as Brienne had dropped her eyes away when he looked back, eyeing her smoothie with interest and said nothing further. 

Much as he’d broken Brienne and Margaery’s entente in the living room, Jaime felt like Margaery had put a pall over his and Brienne’s brief truce. The longer he stood there, the more awkward he felt, tapping his fingers against the glass between sips, Brienne avoiding his gaze. Or so he assumed, as he couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly just yet.

He realized he’d gotten it wrong, much as he had the rest of the evening, when Brienne blurted out, “For gods’ sake, Jaime, just sit down.”

Startled, Jaime looked up to find Brienne giving him an exasperated look and pointing down on the spare space to her right. On her other side, Margaery snorted inelegantly and tried to hide it by moving back to sit next to Brienne and taking a big drink from her own glass. 

Brienne didn’t miss it this time and her tone was vaguely defensive when she asked, “What?”

Jaime settled down at her side as Margaery answered, “Nothing, I only… it reminded me of something Loras said once or twice. Or more.”

“What’s that?” Brienne made what little room she could, but between the wide breadth of her shoulders and Jaime’s own, even Margaery’s slimness made it a tight fit. 

Couldn’t say he minded, though.

“Well, you know,” Margaery sounded slightly abashed, “you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

“I guess?” Brienne tried to speak mildly, but he could see her feet wiggling underneath the bedclothes; Tiger playfully snapped at them and she had to stop. “It was a long time ago.”

“If I remember correctly, your response when they started dating was ‘For gods’ sake, Renly, _him_?’”

Jaime couldn’t contain it, he laughed out loud.

“I didn’t know him,” Brienne said defensively. “He was this upstart little freshman who kept following us around. It was annoying.”

“And you were Renly’s gaoler in Loras’ eyes,” Maragery replied, mirth coloring her words. “Someone he had to vanquish in order to get to his handsome prince.”

“He weaseled his way in anyway,” Brienne said fondly. “Even with me.”

“He had a gift for it,” Margaery agreed. “Though he did like to poke fun at all the times he ever heard you say, _for gods’ sake, Renly._ ”

“I wouldn’t have said it so much if he didn’t warrant it,” Brienne said dryly. 

Margaery tittered delicately. “I can’t say you’re wrong. Remember the wedding, with the boutonnieres-”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that,” Brienne said in wonder. “And the candles?”

“The candles! _Those bloody candles_!” Margaery said it in a deeper voice, clearly mocking someone, though Jaime couldn’t figure which of the men it was.

“They pulled it off, though,” Brienne mused aloud, her tone going softer. “It was a really beautiful day.”

“It was,” Margaery said back, just as wistfully. 

Brienne started to speak, hesitated and then tried again. “We had such a good time that weekend, why didn’t we…”

“Hang out again?” Maragery finished for her.

“Yeah.” The regret in the one word made Jaime push in to bump their arms together and Brienne gave him a fleeting smile. 

Sounding equally disappointed, Margaery said, “I don’t know, because… life? We never really needed each other before, did we?”

“I guess not,” Brienne acceded. 

“Am I hearing this right?” Jaime asked, too confused to stay quiet. “You two weren’t friends before this?”

Margaery leaned forward to look at him from Brienne’s other side. “Kind of? We’ve known each other for years, but we really only saw each other when Renly and Loras brought everyone together.”

“I was always traveling, too,” Brienne offered.

“Well, shit.” Jaime grimaced at the realization that he’d stepped wrong again. He’d asked Margaery over so Brienne could have a trusted friend at her side, but the other woman was probably just as out of her depth as he was. 

As if reading his thoughts, Margaery said, “We can both try harder now, can’t we?” He saw Margaery’s hand reach out and tentatively grab hold of Brienne’s free one. “It doesn’t have to be like it was. And I really am so, _so_ sorry that I didn’t do this sooner.”

“I can hardly be angry with you,” Brienne said sorrowfully. “It’s not as if I called either. Whenever I thought I should, I didn’t think...”

They fell into silence, one that Jaime used to consider how strange they must all look together, lined up along the headboard. Brienne had gotten lost in the thoughts she wasn’t speaking aloud, Margaery strangely quiet on her opposite side. As for Jaime… he couldn’t help but selfishly wonder where he fit in all this for Brienne. She hadn’t called Margaery, apparently, hadn’t given Stannis her true opinion and he doubted that Olenna had gotten it either. But she’d let him in; not all the way or as much as he wanted, Jaime realized now, but more than most. 

_That has to mean_ something _, doesn’t it?_

Margaery was the first to speak again, wondering aloud, “It’s easier, isn’t it, to just sit and miss them? Far easier than trying to figure out how to live without them.”

“Yeah,” Brienne’s voice had gone hoarse and she shook Margaery’s hand free to rub her fingers at her eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

“But we still have to.”

“I keep…” Brienne took in a faintly shuddering gasp. “I keep thinking I can call him and he’ll answer. If I j-just pick up the phone, he’ll be there.”

Margaery sniffled and miserably mumbled something like _me too_. 

Somehow the glass in Brienne’s right hand ended up in Jaime’s grip and then she was rubbing at her face again with both hands. He let out a slow breath and said, “Brienne…”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Brienne said hurriedly, but she kept wiping at her cheeks. “I just - once it gets started, it’s hard to stop.”

“Never seen you cry before tonight,” Jaime murmured. At that, Brienne gave him a brief glance, her reddened eyes almost apologetic, but mainly… impatient? Jaime laughed humorlessly as it became clear: “You never let me see you cry before tonight.”

“Feel like a leaking faucet, it’s ridiculous,” Brienne said by way of explanation and then she groaned loudly with frustration and rubbed at her eyes again, her fingers coming away wet. “No, I feel like a godsdamn pod person, this isn’t _me_. I don’t cry, I am not the sort of woman who just falls apart at the slightest-”

“You call this slight?” Margaery let out a strangled laugh and Jaime realized she was crying, too. “Brienne, we lost our brothers. Nothing about this is slight, not to mention that you’ve got a whole other thing you’ve been trying to handle all on your own. Frankly, I’m amazed that you aren’t a raving lunatic with everything that’s been on your mind.”

“Believe me, I’m wondering the same,” Brienne replied. 

“Whew, okay…. Okay.” Margaery stood from the bed and spread out her hands as if she was parting a pair of curtains. “Let’s make a deal. We are allowed to cry as much as we want, there’s no contesting that. But when we do, we have to try and think of some good or funny or happy things and share them so someone else can enjoy them, too. If you have to call me in the middle of the night, then that is what you’ll have to do.”

“All… right?” Brienne’s tone went bewildered and she looked at Jaime again, as if he could explain any further. He shrugged in response. 

“We can’t be sad over them the rest of our lives,” Margaery said insistently, “not when they made us so happy. They were happy people, Brienne.”

“I know.” Brienne sighed. “But it’s so difficult-”

“Trust me, I am aware, I’m right there with you,” Margaery said passionately, holding her hands to her breastbone. Then she shook her head and took a large breath. “But do you know what’s even better than having our shared moments with them?”

Brienne shook her head.

“All the things that you can tell me that I don’t know. And vice versa. I bet there are some things that I wasn’t there for and I _need_ that, Brienne. I don’t want to forget them, I don’t want their memory to fade, and the only way we can keep them with us is if we do this brave thing and actually bring them back and talk about them, even if it’s just for ourselves. All the stupid little things, the everyday stories we didn’t bother to talk about because we thought Loras and Renly would be around to say it themselves.”

“I… I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Brienne said slowly. 

“I’ll go first and it’s a good one,” Margaery offered. Her makeup had smudged terribly, giving her a look not unlike a raccoon, but her eyes had gone bright. Holding up a hand and with a teasing smile on her face, she said, “I’m quite sure that Renly did not tell you that he had… a Prince Aerys.”

Jaime leaned forward involuntarily, laughter bursting from his body before he knew what was happening. “Are you _kidding_?”

Margaery shook her head in delight, but Brienne was completely lost. “I… I don’t get what’s so funny.”

“A Prince Aerys, Brienne,” Margaery repeated over Jaime’s continued guffaws. At Brienne’s continued confusion, Maragery waved in a downward motion and added, “You know, a piercing… on the crown…?”

There was a beat of silence and then Brienne gasped. “No!”

“Yes!”

Jaime couldn’t fucking breathe. He was wheezing slightly when he was finally able to ask, “How the hells do you know that?”

“Loras was a bit of an oversharer,” Margaery replied. “And I know that Renly wasn’t-”

“He told me quite enough, thank you, but you’re right, he never told me _that_ ,” Brienne cut in, but she was starting to laugh, too. 

“Your turn,” Margaery said eagerly. 

Brienne had to think about it for several seconds and then straightened as something obviously came to her. “Oh, _oh_ , do you remember when Loras had to shave his head and he told you it was because it had gotten too hot that summer?”

“Yes,” Margaery said expectantly, a smile creeping across her face, already looking excited at the prospect of a secret shared. 

“He actually tried going platinum blond and it was _terrible_. The stylist he went to really mucked it up,” Brienne confessed and Margaery almost fell over in a gale of laughter. Jaime tried to imagine it and started chuckling, too. “Renly and I tried to fix it, to turn it brown again, but it ended up looking splotchy and sad so…”

“That _idiot_ , oh my idiot little brother,” Margaery kept giggling, “why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, I think Renly had complimented my hair, which was absurd in itself, and you know how Loras got sometimes.”

Margaery smiled gratefully. “That I do. The fool.” She caught Brienne’s eye and they traded affectionate smiles; Margaery hopped up on the bed to kneel at Brienne’s side and grabbed her hands again. “See? Already working.”

“I guess it is,” Brienne said back. 

“Anytime, Brienne, anytime at all, you call me, okay?” Margaery’s voice went softly urgent. “We’re going to do better.”

Brienne nodded, at first slowly and then with more enthusiasm. “Okay.”

“That’s the spirit.” Maragery jiggled her hands a little and let them loose as she leaned back on her heels. Nobody said anything as Brienne’s hands automatically went to her stomach, stroking over it as she sighed contentedly. 

Margaery looked over at Jaime, before Brienne looked up, and he saw the moment Margaery decided to let it pass. Jaime gave her a small smile and nodded once in agreement. 

“All right, give me those glasses, I’ll clean up,” Maragery held out her hands until Jaime handed them over and she picked up her own. “Though it pains me, I have to say that was actually a really good smoothie, though I’d bet that’s pretty much all you can do.”

“He can boil an egg all right,” Brienne murmured primly.

Jaime protested, “I’ve worked my way up to an omelette, thank you very much.”

“Really?” At his nod, Brienne smiled and proudly said, “Good for you.”

Margaery looked reluctantly impressed. “I wouldn’t have guessed it of Jaime Lannister.”

“I have hidden depths,” he said with a half-smile. 

“So it seems,” Maragery replied. She gave him a wink and walked out of the room; soon he heard the sound of clinking and running water from the kitchen.

Brienne dropped her head against the headboard and let out a long gust of air. She closed her eyes and slid down in the bed, settling her head down on the pillow. Jaime couldn’t help but stare down at her, relieved to see her mouth flutter into a smile as a presumably happy memory came to her. 

He stared too long and she caught him at it, her blue eyes opening and arresting him in place. 

“Um,” Jaime licked his lips and forced himself to look away, “you probably want me to go.”

“You don’t have to,” Brienne replied. 

She prodded Salmon off her lap and wiggled around to lie on her side to face him, her movement causing Jaime to shift downward as well. Between that and the tug of her hand on his arm as she adjusted herself, Jaime went down the rest of the way until they were on level once more. He caught the scent of her shampoo from the pillow under his head, felt her breath brush across his jaw, and it made his chest go tight. 

“I know… I know you feel better and I’ve already been a complete shit tonight” - Jaime twisted his hands together but knew he didn’t deserve to be given any quarter, even from himself - “but I need to apologize, too.”

Brienne didn’t pretend to misunderstand him; she only waited for him to finish out his thoughts. 

“I didn’t intend for it to go so far and I made a lot of assumptions. I was too caught up in thinking about myself, about how… it doesn’t matter what I was thinking. What’s going on with you is your business and I should have given you the space for it.”

“Well, you did prove Renly was right at least part of the time,” Brienne mused. 

Jaime turned his head to observe her sad smile, but she added, “I’m glad you called Margaery, though. That was big of you.”

“More like I was completely lost and needed someone to bail me out,” Jaime replied. “Though I didn’t realize that you didn’t know each other all that well.”

“It was still the right thing to do.” Brienne dimmed slightly. “As for the rest of it…”

“I _am_ sorry, Brienne.”

“I know,” Brienne said quietly. She reached out and put her palm on her chest, unwittingly placing it just where he was aching with remorse. “I kept a lot from you-”

“You don’t need to explain-”

“Do you know what you are to me?”

Her eyes were cast down, refusing him the chance to look at her straight on. All Jaime could do was swallow hard and shake his head.

“You are the one good thing that’s happened to me in the last three months,” Brienne said plainly. She nudged forward and set her cheek on his shoulder, thankfully far enough away that she wouldn’t hear his thundering heart. “You with your ridiculous dog and terrible taste in movies and weird, sudden obsession with cooking - I needed something, someone to let me just… breathe.”

Jaime felt like he couldn’t. His chest had gone still under her hand. 

“So I didn’t tell you, because when I’m with you, it’s easier. Easier to be just me, to not have to be strong for someone else.” She nestled further against him when Jaime stopped denying himself and put his hand over hers. “I knew it couldn’t last and you’re right, you were a real shit tonight. But it was going to happen eventually.”

“Me being a shit or you falling to pieces?” Jaime had to ask.

“Both. Either,” Brienne said with a wry laugh. 

Unable to stop himself, Jaime pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. “So I’m not banished then?”

“Not banished,” Brienne allowed. 

“On thin ice, though?”

Brienne chuckled. “No, not even that, though you better not make me regret it.”

“I’ll try my best,” Jaime promised. 

Either Margaery took an exceedingly long time to wash only three glasses or she had allowed them the time to attain some peace, because it was only then that she sailed back into the bedroom. Surprisingly, Jaime wasn’t that sorry to see her, even when she jostled the bed by jumping on from the other side. 

“So I was going to head out, but I’m thinking I might as well stick around until morning,” she announced, draping herself over Brienne’s back, her chin hooking over Brienne’s shoulder. “Make Lannister here prove that he can make an omelette.”

“I said I could make one, I can’t promise it’ll be edible,” Jaime warned her.

“Sounds about right,” Margaery agreed. 

Brienne yawned against Jaime’s shirt, but tightened her hold on the fabric when he attempted to rise. “Don’t go, not yet,” she said sleepily. “You’re a good pillow.”

“Okay,” Jaime replied, refusing to acknowledge Margaery’s contemplative hum. 

“Look at us,” she said anyway, her voice thick with innuendo. “Me, Brienne Tarth and Jaime Lannister in bed together.”

“Must be a sight,” Jaime had to say.

“Worst threesome ever,” Margaery said solemnly. Then, “Why are you laughing? Brienne? Jaime? Come on, what’s so funny? _Why are you laughing_?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the <3 to Slips, Luthien and Nire. 
> 
> ICYMI, there is a prequel called [False Positive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325884). It's a short peek at Brienne, Renly and Loras, before the the shitstorm I've put them through.

Jaime presented the plate before Margaery, cautiously optimistic that he’d managed to get it right. The omelette was a little wonky around the edges and he hadn’t been able to keep it from browning in a few spots, but it cut smoothly under Margaery’s fork and she didn’t immediately spit it out after putting it in her mouth. Small victories.

Finally, she swallowed it down and admitted, “All right, it’s edible.”

“That’s all I ask,” Jaime said with faux gravity.

“You’re both being ridiculous. It’s good, Jaime,” Brienne interjected. Her own omelette was already half gone and Jaime tried not to smile too broadly as he sat down to eat his own. 

“Far be it from me to mock a pregnant woman, but I’m not sure I can entirely trust your palate, Brienne.” Margaery obviously tried to maintain a haughty composure, but it was undone by the way she dug into her meal. She flicked her eyes up at Jaime as if daring him to make a comment. 

Brienne opened her mouth, presumably to object, thought better of it, and instead took another bite. 

Jaime felt a rare heat rise in his cheeks - and more, a strange, new form of pride - as both women continued eating. He was thankful that neither of them encountered any eggshell that he’d found on his second forkful and forced down without mention. Be that as it may, he knew he’d made a lot of progress, even if he had a lot further to go. 

Beyond that, it was hard to be in a foul mood when his morning had already started so well, waking up in Brienne’s bed. He’d meant to leave the night before, especially when Margaery had shut off the lights and settled in behind Brienne, but he’d found it impossible to move - literally, figuratively, all the ways - and didn’t fight it when he started to drift off, only coming to when the room filled with morning light. 

It wasn’t anything like he’d hoped or imagined, but those waking moments were indelibly tucked away in the part of his mind that held his most treasured memories: the feel of Brienne’s hand still under his, the press of her brow against his arm, her left knee resting on his leg. Every bit of it was nestled alongside the memory of the look on Tyrion’s face when Jaime had given him his first car, modified just for him. It took the spot away from the day Jaime had turned to his father and said no, they wouldn’t need his investment in their company, because he and Tyrion were going to make it on their own, with or without his blessing, they didn’t really give a shit. 

It would have been one thing if Jaime had been the first to wake, that he would have been able to use the time to silently observe Brienne’s peaceful slumber. But that wasn’t the case.

He’d woken to Brienne’s hand scratching lightly against his shirt, her head moving into a more comfortable position, finding that comfort in staying close to him. It had given him more hope than he’d dared to allow himself, even more than when she’d said that he, _him_ , Jaime Lannister, was someone she didn’t regret knowing, even when he gave in to his worst impulses. 

If Margaery hadn’t been there, Jaime wasn’t sure he’d have been able to resist his _best_ impulses. But she was, so he hadn’t done as he’d fantasized, the warm hazy dream of putting his hand under Brienne’s chin to raise it up, all so he could slant his mouth over hers. 

Instead, he’d taken a minute to relish their closeness, dropped another kiss on her hair, and said good morning. 

Margaery pulled him from his warm thoughts when she put her fork down with a light clinking sound, set her shoulders and turned to Brienne. 

“Can we talk about it now?” she asked, her voice gentle and firm all at once. 

Brienne carefully set aside her fork, pulled her napkin into her grip, and tugged it between her hands. She looked at Margaery, then over to Jaime and back, and nodded. 

“All right.” Margaery relaxed barely at all, her eyes downcast as she measured out her words. Jaime expected her to go for the most obvious question first, but she surprised him by asking, “Do you feel comfortable staying here? In the apartment?”

“I…” Brienne had evidently expected what Jaime had and took several seconds to consider it. “Not really, no.”

“You can come stay with me, if you’d like,” Margaery offered. 

Jaime’s stomach had the barest millisecond to drop, leaving a yawning space behind, when Brienne shook her head and said, “No, that’s all right.”

“If it’s too difficult, if it hurts too much-”

“It’s not that it hurts, Margaery. It does, but it doesn’t?” Brienne shifted in her seat, looking at the space around them, her face rolling through a multitude of emotions all at once. When she turned back, Brienne said, “I thought if I didn’t… I know they’re not coming back, but when I tried to go to their room, it was awful. So awful.”

“Brienne…”

“Time went on and it was easier not to change anything. If I didn’t start, then maybe I wouldn’t have to go back in there.” Brienne scoffed lightly at herself. “As if delaying the inevitable was going to do me any favors.”

She took another look at the room, her voice soft and searching when she told them, “It won’t be the first thing I do, but it doesn’t seem as insurmountable anymore. I don’t know why that is - even yesterday I would have said otherwise.”

“You’ve had to deal with a lot, I imagine it was simpler to put it aside.” Margaery reached out and ran her hand over Brienne’s arm. “I’ll help. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

Jaime hazarded to say, “Whatever you need, Brienne,” and relaxed the smallest bit when she turned in his direction with a grateful smile. 

Margaery took a large breath, looking apologetic even as she said, “Speaking of-”

“Yeah,” Brienne replied, sounding exhausted already, her smile vanishing. 

“He’s inevitable, too,” Margaery said mildly and Brienne let out a soft self-deprecating snort. “Brienne. What do you want? What do you _really_ want?” 

It wasn’t amusing to watch Brienne’s struggle to find words this time. She looked down for a long time, then closed her eyes, her body slightly swaying with her every inhalation. The first thing she finally spoke aloud was to Margaery. “Please don’t misunderstand, it’s not that I think that Stannis can’t- or Olenna or you-”

“Don’t worry about us,” Margaery interrupted. It was an eerie reproduction of their last interaction over breakfast, but this time it was Margaery who took on a serious, forthright expression, leaning toward Brienne. “You need to have a say. Please, Brienne. What feels the most right to you?”

Jaime wanted to reach out and still Brienne’s hands, but knew he couldn’t. All he could do was watch as she gathered her thoughts, pulling and pulling and pulling the cloth between her fingers until she made a small, gut-wrenching noise and said, “I want to keep him.”

Jaime and Margaery both let out a breath; he saw the relief he felt washing over him echo on her face.

Brienne dropped the napkin and clenched one hand over the other, bringing them to her trembling mouth. It took several beats before she could say, “I do. That’s what I want.”

“Then that’s what will happen,” Margaery replied, her tone brooking no opposition. 

“But Stannis and your grandmother…” 

Margaery waved her hand in the air, confoundedly casual in her refute. “They’ll understand. Hells, they must want this, too, Brienne. I know I do.”

“You do?” Brienne asked, sounding as if this was a hope she was only just allowing to see the light of day.

“Yes, of course _yes_.”

“But the custody-”

“Oh, damn that whole shitty thing,” Margaery said, her expression gone bad-tempered. Jaime nodded earnestly in agreement. “Grandmother came up with that damn plan _because_ it was so fucking terrible.”

Brienne traded a startled look with Jaime.

“A month each, are you kidding me? Brienne, _this_ is what we wanted, for you to take him, we were just giving you time to decide that for yourself. Grandmother insisted that you needed that push. She likely would have rethought the whole thing if she’d known how much you were struggling with it. We shouldn’t have played any damned games. We _should_ have just spoken to you.”

Margaery let out a resigned sigh and kept going. “I have no reservations when it comes to you taking care of him. If I could do it, if I was the right person for it, I would, but I don’t believe I can give him what you can. Either way, I’m not exactly maternal.”

“You say that like I am,” Brienne replied, sounding far too doubtful of herself for Jaime’s liking.

“I mean,” Margaery gestured to Brienne’s stomach as if that was enough to finish the statement. 

“But you were the first.”

“That would be different, it would have been half mine, so to speak” - Margaery faltered, her eyes gone sorrowful, then she shook it away - “but that’s not the case now. And I hate to admit it, but if we put it down on paper, you knew Loras better than I knew Renly. You’ll be able to give him more than I could when it comes to them.”

“I-I had no idea you felt that way.”

Margaery shrugged restlessly. “And I didn’t consider that you were hurting as much as I was. You seemed so steady whenever I saw you.”

Brienne’s lips twisted, wry and apologetic all at once. “I meant you to. I didn’t want to be another burden.”

“That’s the last thing I’d ever call you, Brienne.” Margaery stood and wrapped her arms around Brienne’s neck, resting her cheek on the other woman’s pale blonde hair. “You gave Renly and Loras a gift they’d never be able to repay, even… before. The fact that we can still have a piece of them and that you’ll be the one to raise him, I can’t think of anything better.”

Brienne bit down hard on her lips, her eyes shining and unsure as Margaery returned to her seat. “What about Stannis?”

“Stannis will have to deal with it,” Jaime cut in, giving Margaery a moment to collect herself. Thinking back on their conversation the day before, he said, “Though I think he’d understand, that he’d see you’re the right choice. He said he offered for you to have partial custody in the first place, he knows there are better options than the one they’re bandying about now.”

“And let’s be honest, Shireen is a nice kid, but Renly wasn’t wrong when he said that she’s the equivalent of a dandelion popping up between pieces of broken concrete,” Margaery said pointedly. “That kid is a sweetheart _despite_ the parents she was saddled with.”

“He’s also in the middle of a divorce,” Jaime reminded them. Granted, it might be considered something in Stannis’ favor - the fact that Selyse wouldn’t be inflicted on the kid was solely in the plus column from the little Jaime knew of her - but they could just as easily present it as a factor going against the man if he put up a fight. 

“I just can’t help feeling that it’s… selfish,” Brienne said in a hushed tone. “To want him for myself.”

“No, it’s not,” Margaery said, just as Jaime shrugged and acknowledged, “Maybe, but so what?”

Maragery gave him a sharp look. 

“What?” Jaime, however, didn’t let her answer. “Look, you’re thinking that Stannis is the kid’s uncle and Olenna’s his grandmother, but who gives a flying fuck? They have money, probably more resources than you’ll start off with, but what will it matter in the end? The kid needs someone who will love him, who will do anything to protect him, who puts his needs first. That’s you, Brienne. That’s what you’ve been doing this whole damn time.”

Brienne took a shaky breath, but Margaery laughed wryly and said, “Godsdamnit, I can’t say he’s wrong, Brienne. You have _no_ idea how irritating that is, but it’s true.”

“So… what do I do?” Brienne looked back and forth between them again, her hands still clenched tightly together. “They offered partial custody, but I can’t do that, I can’t risk anyone changing their mind and cutting me out in the end. I don’t think I could take it.”

“Then we’ll get you a lawyer,” Margaery said with a decisive nod. “Not because we’re expecting a fight, but to keep it all above board so that there is no question of who exactly he belongs to. Stannis will respect that, I’m sure of it.”

Brienne grimaced at hearing it. “A lawyer?” 

“It’s the smart move,” Jaime agreed. “I can ask around, find someone who’s dependable and able to handle complicated situations like these.”

All three of them went quiet. Jaime’s thoughts were racing, already preparing the words to ask Tyrion or Peck for their recommendations. Margaery has gone similarly contemplative. Brienne looked a heady mixture of shocked, scared and tentatively hopeful. 

“Is this really happening?” she asked in a whisper. Jaime reached out and carefully pulled her hands apart, silently encouraging her to hold onto him instead. 

“Yeah,” he told her. Brienne’s lips parted into an astounded smile; he couldn’t help but smile back. 

Margaery pushed back from her seat, crossed the room to find her purse, and then marched back towards them with purpose. Brienne turned slightly to watch her, Jaime still firmly in her grasp, and asked, “What are you doing?”

Not answering right away, Margaery pulled something out of her purse and went straight to Brienne’s side and held out a slip of paper. “This belongs to you.”

Jaime realized what it was just as Brienne did and she raised her free hand, stopping just shy of taking the ultrasound that Margaery offered. 

“Take it,” Margaery urged her. “He’s your son, Brienne. Take him.”

Really, they both should have expected for Brienne to burst into tears, because that’s exactly what she did. 

At least this time, Jaime wasn’t the only one who was there to hold her. 

###### 

“What do you mean you need the name of a lawyer?” Tyrion demanded.

“So you did hear me,” Jaime said dryly. He rolled his eyes at Maragery when she emerged from Brienne’s bedroom, where she’d prodded the other woman to get some more rest after her latest emotional outpouring. “Someone with a specialty in family law, the sooner the better.”

“Wait a damned minute, Jaime. First you text me out of nowhere last night, demanding to know how to reach Margaery Tyrell and now you’re asking me for a damned _family lawyer_ , what in the hells are you up to?”

“Are you going to help or not?”

“Of course I’ll help, but you’ve got to give me something here, damn it,” Tyrion groused.

“It’s for Brienne,” Jaime admitted.

There was a few seconds of silence and then Tyrion’s muttered _I should have fucking known_ , followed by a groan. “Well, a name immediately comes to mind. She’s not usually local, but she’s in the area at the moment and I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone better.”

His brother’s caginess left Jaime suspicious. “Who is it?”

“Think about it, though I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go in another direction.”

Jaime paused and considered the people he already knew and when the name came to mind, he wanted to pretend it hadn’t. “Fuck, but she hates me, she still thinks it’s my fault that her sister is a mess. That’s not on me, Lysa was all kinds of batshit far before I met her.”

“That she was” - Tyrion said it in a bored tone, as if he’d heard this all before because of course he had - “but Catelyn Stark is damn good at what she does. Who knows, maybe Ned will put in a good word for you?”

“One can only hope,” Jaime groaned. He gave Margaery a long-suffering glance, but added a thumbs up along with it. “Give me her number, I’ll make sure she talks to someone she’ll like much better than me.”

“As in _anybody else?_ ” 

“Shut up and tell me,” Jaime told him. “And don’t tell me that’s counterproductive, just tell me, damn it.”

A few minutes later, he handed the scribbled number over to Margaery and said, “With Tyrion’s compliments.”

“If those were compliments, I am at a loss to figure out what you consider an insult,” Margaery remarked lightly, taking the number from him. “What’s the story with Catelyn Stark and why would she rather speak to me? Besides the obvious, of course.”

“It was two dates. I went on two damned dates with Lysa Tully, all apparently to make her asshole ex jealous, but Catelyn still thinks it’s my fault that her sister went off the deep end a few months later when he moved on to someone else.” The someone else in question looked uncomfortably like Catelyn, Jaime had always thought, but did anyone listen to him? Of course not. “Despite that blatant lack of awareness, she’s the right choice. You’ll just have to be the one to go with Brienne to meet with Catelyn, I don’t want my presence to fuck things up.”

“Probably for the best,” Margaery conceded. Looking back toward Brienne’s closed door, she went on, “I made sure she fell asleep, it’s been rough on her, even if it’s good that we’re getting it sorted.”

Jaime hummed in agreement, but still gave the door a resentful look. 

“Does she know how you feel about her?” Margaery asked out of nowhere.

There was a bare second where Jaime entertained the idea of feigning ignorance, but too much had passed between them in only a handful of hours. Turning to face her, Jaime only shook his head. 

“Interesting, that,” Margaery said lightly. “You’re pretty obvious with it.”

“Not to Brienne,” Jaime replied, though he thought it was a bit rich of her to say so; she’d likely only put it together the previous evening. “But then again, she’s got a lot on her mind already.”

Margaery bobbed her head, her expression amused and curious at the same time. “She’d said you were a friend, but it was hard for me to believe that, even a day ago. But you are, aren’t you?”

“Her friend? Yes,” Jaime said simply. 

“And you want more, but you’re not asking for it. Not yet, at least.”

What was there to say to that? Jaime just shrugged. 

Margaery laughed to herself, surprise clear on her face. 

“That’s funny to you?” Jaime asked, peeved by her enjoyment of his wretched balancing act. 

“It’s always a little funny when your world view gets turned on its head, yeah,” Margaery said. “Especially by a guy that twenty-four hours ago I would have happily watched get run over by a herd of aurochs.”

“Put me and Catelyn Stark in the same room and you’ll see the equivalent,” Jaime said, ticking up an eyebrow. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Margaery said back. “We aren’t good enough friends that I can find the concept entirely horrendous.”

Jaime smiled, just a little. “So we’re friends now, is that it?”

“I’d probably still smack you if you tried to call me Marg, but yeah,” she replied. “I think we might just have a shot.”

###### 

Margaery stayed for more than a week, informing Brienne and Jaime that she’d put her work on hold until everything was officially handled, leaving only to retrieve some items from home and then returning to set up camp on Brienne’s couch. 

For all the two women said they would eventually clear out the master bedroom, it seemed that they had come to an unspoken consensus that it wouldn’t be their first course of action. That, instead, was informing Stannis and Olenna of Brienne’s decision. 

Jaime and Margaery sat on either side of Brienne once again, her steadfast guard as she studied the phone in her hand. They were further supported by Salmon on Jaime’s lap and Tiger at Margaery’s side, his chin resting on her leg and his eyes rolling with happiness when she scratched his belly. Jaime muttered _traitor_ at him and Margaery answered with a shitty little grin. 

Brienne told them both to shut up and made the call. 

They witnessed the kind way she told Stannis that it was the only option to which he would ever have her agreement and how she didn’t want to cause him any further pain. It was a fraught conversation, full of starts and stops that moved Brienne to silent tears, but ended with Stannis’ acquiescence. 

Near the end of the call, Brienne traded a significant look with Margaery and said, “Stannis? There’s something you should know… no, nothing like that, um, it’s something Margaery and I are try- anyway, that’s all to say… Renly really respected how hard you fought for the minority shareholders… Yes, that’s what I said.... No, there were times where he disagreed with Robert and he thought you had the right of it, but he hated to get in the middle of the two of you. I know that might not mean much- oh. Yes, I suppose so.”

She went quiet for a long time and then at last added, “I just thought you might like to hear it. Since he’s not here to say it… Um, yeah, you’re welcome. Bye.”

Brienne hung up and rubbed at her chest, her eyes glimmering. “That went okay? I think he… I think Stannis needed to hear that.”

“See?” Margaery patted Brienne’s knee, still stroking Tiger’s silky head with her other hand. “Better, right?”

Brienne agreed but still looked fairly shaken, so Jaime handed Salmon over to her for a cuddle. Then he made a gesture for Tiger to join him, something that took a little longer than he was pleased with, but Tiger eventually made his way over, rearing up and dancing his paws against Jaime’s legs. 

“I’m not going to steal your dog,” Margaery remarked, plainly irritated.

“You sure as hell aren’t,” Jaime said shortly, scrubbing Tiger’s ears with both hands, happier when he got the besotted look that Margaery had been hogging for the last couple days.

“I do like him though,” Margaery mused. “Makes me consider getting a lowchen, they’re quite sweet. Do you think Tyrion could get me in contact with the breeder?”

“He probably would,” Jaime said, “but they’re on the pricey side as far as I know.”

“Please, you’re probably just say-”

“Pretty sure Tiger set him back almost ten grand.”

He almost - _almost_ \- laughed at the way both women whipped their heads around, their expressions scandalized. 

Jaime allowed himself a light chuckle. “What can I say? Tyrion’s got expensive tastes.”

“Fucking Lannisters,” Margaery mumbled.

###### 

Regardless of Stannis’ tacit approval - and Olenna’s apparently enthusiastic consent - Margaery still made the necessary calls, reaching out to Catelyn Stark to represent Brienne’s interests. 

They met up every evening to discuss the progress, nevermind that Brienne was texting updates throughout the day, keeping Jaime appraised of the vast amount of papers that had to be filed and how Catelyn ran Brienne through the gamut before even taking the case on. Jaime wanted to be annoyed with the oh-so-honorable Barrister Stark, especially when she pointedly suggested Brienne would benefit from seeing a counselor, but Brienne was determined to admire the woman. 

“She thinks that it’ll help, it’ll show the judge that I want to raise him in a healthy environment,” Brienne told him when Jaime grumbled upon hearing it. “Which I do, of course, but also…”

She trailed off and Jaime exchanged a glance with Margaery from where she sat in the other kitchen chair, eating more than her share of the simple dinner he’d gamely put together. He wanted to snap at her as well, except that it made him feel better to see her face filling out a bit, the color coming back to her cheeks. Not nearly to the level of relief or affection he felt when Brienne relaxed against him at the end of the day, worn out by the stress of bureaucratic red tape, but something akin to brotherly regard, as foreign and absurd as that sounded when it came to mind. 

“I can’t do this on my own,” Brienne admitted, regret making her voice slow and heavy. “Margaery’s right, it wasn’t healthy the way I tried to carry on but I’d thought- I’d thought that I had enough… experience to bear this. I was wrong about that. Maybe if it were just me, it’d be different, but it’s not. I have to think of him, too.”

There was no reasonable way to object to that, so Jaime just stole the bowl of roasted potatoes from Margaery, ignored her exaggerated pout, and asked about the therapist that Catelyn had recommended. 

Jaime told neither woman that he did his own research, looking up the esteemed Dr. Seaworth and having Peck poke around to fill in any blanks, before he finally let himself loosen up and accept that Catelyn hadn’t suggested a complete hack. 

As for the rest of it, Jaime stayed firmly out of sight for everyone’s sake, though it irked him that he had to keep his distance. Margaery was at her side for the flurry of meetings where settlements were reached and custody contracts negotiated; in the end, Stannis and Olenna didn’t ask for much, but Brienne - ever generous Brienne - made sure they knew how much she wanted them to remain involved. 

Several days in, everyone appeared to be in accord, every i dotted and t crossed, with only a final stamp needed from a judge. Jaime would never be able to tell her, or at least Catelyn had no interest in hearing it from him, but she was excellent at what she did. She was the one to make it possible for Brienne to knock on his door, stand in front of him and say in a shocked tone, “It’s done.”

“Done?” Jaime asked, stunned. To expect it was one thing, for it to be real was quite another.

“Done,” Brienne repeated. She didn’t look like she quite believed it herself. But then she said, “I’m going to be his mom.”

Jaime burst forward and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be the best one the kid could ever get, and that’s saying a lot.”

“I have so much to do,” Brienne mumbled against his shoulder. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’ve got this. We’ll figure it out,” Jaime promised her. He had an idea and was suddenly eager to carry it out. “But will you let me do something?”

Which is what led them to their present situation, sorting through a pile of small bolts and washers, with a much larger stack of wooden slats set to one side.

“I could have let them put it together at the shop,” Jaime grumbled as he sorted a small handful of bolts apart from another handful of slightly larger ones. “Then we wouldn’t have to fuss with any of it.”

“There’s lots of things I can get premade, but I want to do at least this,” Brienne insisted. She spread open a large pamphlet that claimed to give instructions on how to piece together the crib, but it looked like gibberish from Jaime’s perspective. Even Brienne started to look a little daunted. 

Jaime realized how quiet the room had become in their studious concentration and asked, “Where’s Margaery? Figured she’d be here to demand I feed her again.”

“As if you aren’t living for her compliments,” Brienne said as she started comparing tools to the diagrams on the page.

“Compliments? The closest I got to one from her was ‘thanks for not poisoning me’.”

Brienne laughed under breath. “She decided it was time for her to stay at home for a few nights, now that things are settled. But really, I think she and Sansa are out plotting out throwing me a baby shower.”

Jaime mentally ran through all the people he knew and came to a loss. “Sansa?”

“Stark,” Brienne said easily. She maneuvered herself into crossing her legs, making her stomach all the more prominent as she leaned back. There was something to the length of her torso that made her pregnancy less obvious even at nearly thirty weeks, but it was becoming more apparent as time went on. 

In the days following their argument and Maragery’s continued presence, a sense of calmness had settled around Brienne, making it all the more obvious how tightly wound she had been prior to that. Her laugh came more easily, the slope of her shoulders less rigid, she _leaned_ and _lounged_ , no longer bracing as if anticipating the next impact. Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

And because of that, he had no idea what she’d just said. “Sorry, what?”

Brienne laughed at him - _laughed_! _gods, the way her eyes lit up_ \- and started again. “Sansa Stark. She’s Catelyn’s daughter and she’s going to university here in King’s Landing, pre-law. Catelyn had her helping us out, filing documents and running errands, but she became quite… fond, I suppose, of me.”

She looked absolutely astonished to say that; Jaime couldn’t understand how Brienne was unaware of the way she drew people in without even trying.

“After hearing the whole story, it seems she decided that I needed to be taken under her wing, nevermind that I’ve got several years on her,” Brienne said, shaking her head, “but it’s sweet. And she and Margaery get on like a house on fire.”

“Great, just what Margaery needs, another underling. Doesn’t she have enough Instagram followers already?” Jaime asked, more out of habit than anything else.

Brienne seemed to recognize it and made a mocking little face at him. Jaime found it damned delightful. 

“Anyway” - she stressed out the word - “since Sansa lives around here, she asked if she could stay in touch. I barely know her, but, I don’t know, there’s something about her. This steadfastness, it kind of makes her seem older than her years.”

“That’d be the North in her, I’d bet,” Jaime remarked. “They grow them hardy up there.”

“Maybe so,” Brienne agreed with a faint smile. There was a brief lull as she visibly contemplated something and Jaime waited until she added, “But maybe it has something to do with… me. It was something Davos - Dr. Seaworth - pointed out during our session yesterday.”

Jaime sat straighter once she said it. As much as he’d been curious about what had happened - though he hadn’t expected much, considering she’d only met with the man for an hour - he hadn’t asked, had firmly told himself to give Brienne the space she needed. But if she was offering…

“What’s that?” 

Brienne looked a strange combination of unsure and thoughtful. “Mostly I just told him about everything in broad strokes, why I decided to be the surrogate, how much Renly meant to me, how difficult things have been since he died.”

She stuttered on the last word and Jaime felt an answering twist within his chest. 

“But then he asked me about things that came before it and we ended up talking about about my dad’s passing, then my brother, and my mom and my sisters-”

“Holy fuck, Brienne,” Jaime said, horrified. In that second, he remembered - it had gotten lost in everything else happening, but he recalled now that she’d said Renly had helped her through losing her father, but the rest-

“Not all at once,” Brienne said in a rush, though she looked careworn saying it. “My mom and sisters, I was very young, I barely… it sounds horrible, but I barely remember them.”

“Still-”

“With Galladon, I wasn’t even ten and I had my dad. We took care of each other. It was difficult when he died, too, but I had more time to prepare for it, we had time together, we knew it was coming.” Brienne said it all so quickly, as if spitting it out rapidfire would gloss over the pain in her voice. “By that time, Renly was my… I had him. And then I didn’t.”

Jaime pushed up from where he was sitting, dropping down at Brienne’s side. As much as he wanted to pull her in, it felt all wrong, like it would be more for himself than for her. So he sat alongside her, leaving his hand palm up on his knee, an open invitation if she wanted it. 

Brienne stared straight ahead, not taking notice. “I think... I thought… that if I made my life small enough, it wasn’t likely to happen again. That I’d be safe from losing another person I loved, so soon. But then I did and all I could think was, I’ve done this before, I can get through it again. I’m good at… grief. It’s godsdamn second nature at this point.”

“Nobody can possibly be good at that, Brienne,” Jaime protested as kindly as he could. 

“I tried, though.” Brienne brushed her hands at her cheeks, sweeping away the tears that had spilled. He’d lost count by now of how many times she’d let him see her this way, but each time was as disquieting as the last. “That’s what Davos asked me to think about, why I’ve made the choices I have, what I expected to get out of them.”

Jaime let out a rough breath; his throat felt raw and achy. “Sounds like you covered a lot of ground.”

“A league wide and an inch deep,” Brienne said with an unamused laugh. “He suggested that I go back in a couple days, even though the judge already signed off on everything. It’s not integral to the custody agreement, but I think it’s a good idea. It’ll be good to maybe figure out a few things, because I don’t want it to be like this anymore. All of this- this _horrible shit_ found me even when I tried to make my world as small as possible.”

“Hey,” Jaime nudged at her shoulder until she looked back at him, “I’m here. You let _someone_ in. I mean, you may have to refine your standards-”

Brienne bumped back against him, her laugh gone watery, but more sincere. “A wise choice, all told.”

“First time anyone’s said that about me,” Jaime teased her. 

“They’d be lying if they said it wasn’t true.” With that, Brienne dropped her temple to his shoulder and finally took his hand. “Thanks, Jaime.”

“Anytime, Brienne.”

“You’ll probably sorry you said that, I’m going to need a _lot_ of help getting ready for this kid.” Brienne groaned and leaned away from him, using her free hand to rub at her stomach. “All the things people usually have nine months for, I have to squeeze into fewer than three. People will have been going to those parenting classes twice as long as I’ll end up attending.”

Jaime had the briefest vision of his father standing amongst a crowd of people in a _parenting class_ of all things and couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came out of him. “Sorry, sorry,” he sputtered in response to seeing Brienne’s dismayed expression. “I didn’t know that was a thing. What’s it even for?”

Brienne gave him a dubious look, but explained, “It’s general stuff, going over stages of development, how to meet the baby’s needs, that sort of thing.”

“Gods, I wonder if that existed three decades ago,” Jaime contemplated out loud. Nevertheless, he shrugged and said, “I’m sure my father wouldn’t have bothered to go even then, so that’s a nonstarter.”

“It is disturbing how that makes so much sense,” Brienne said dryly. 

Jaime considered it for the briefest moment before offering, “It probably wouldn’t be remiss for me - or Margaery, of course - to go with you. For backup. I mean, we’re going to be around the kid anyway.”

Any thoughts that he might have overstepped were dashed when Brienne gave him a relieved smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brienne agreed. “It’ll be nice to have back up. But as for the rest of it...”

“Well, we’ve sort of got the crib?” Jaime trailed off as he took in the scattered pieces and glanced over to find Brienne looking distinctly underwhelmed by his question. 

“One thing out of a million.” Brienne pulled her hand from his and she started ticking off her fingers as she said, “Clothes, bottles, linens, diapers, special bath… things? I don’t know. I’ll have to child-lock everything here before he gets up and about-”

“I think you have _some_ time for that, at least-”

“A high chair, a car seat, blankets, toys, and Salmon, gods, what’s Salmon going to think when there’s a baby here?” Her voice started going faster again, this time more panicked than before. “One of those little bouncy chairs, a diaper bag, a stroller, those… those… wrap around things to hold him to my chest? _And shit, what the fuck am I doing?”_

Brienne dropped her face into her hands, laughing in a shell-shocked way. Jaime wasn’t sure if he was supposed to join in or not, especially when she drew up quickly, took a deep gulp of air and said, “I’m insane. I am insane. I can’t believe… why would they… why would _I_ think this was a good idea?”

“Because it is,” Jaime said quickly, before she could answer the question herself. “It is. Brienne, trust me. All that stuff is just… stuff. If Margaery’s throwing you a shower - which I figure she has to be - everyone she invites will probably take care of most of it.” And as soon as he had a chance, he was going to write down everything he could remember Brienne saying and shove the whole list into Margaery’s hands, just to make sure. Anything they didn’t cover, he would.

She chuckled half-heartedly and shook her head. “I don’t even know what to name him. I’m going to be his mom and I don’t even know where to start." 

“Just calling him the kid is working pretty well so far,” Jaime said in what he hoped was a helpful manner.

“I guess that’s as good as anything else,” Brienne muttered. 

Perhaps it was ill-considered, but Jaime ventured to ask, “Were you thinking about naming him after-”

“Renly? Or Loras?” Brienne pursed her lips and let out of a little huff of air, her nostrils flaring. She put her hands back over her stomach and shook her head. “No. No, he needs to be his own person. He’s not Renly come again, or anything of the sort. I can’t put that on him before he’s even born.”

Jaime nodded along, certain she had the right of it. 

“It’d be easier if I knew what they wanted, if it were a boy. Funnily enough, they had their hearts set on a girl,” Brienne told him, a fond smile coming to her face. “They wanted to dress her up in beautiful things and fill her nursery with flowers. A little boy, though, I bet they would have dressed him in little suits with little bow ties. This would have surprised them, but they would have figured it out.”

“You will, too,” Jaime said, as certain of it as there were hours in the day, or days in the week. 

“That was something they hadn’t decided on yet, either. A name, I mean. Loras was always changing his mind and he never spelled it the common way. I think the last one he mentioned was Paisley, but with two e’s at the end.” They exchanged an arch look and Brienne glanced away to hide her smile. “Renly, though, he liked was the one who wanted something simple. He liked Jenny. Not Jennifer. Just Jenny.”

Jaime frowned. “That’s a lot simpler than I would have given Renly credit for.”

“That’s what we said,” Brienne replied, thankfully not having taken offense. “He said it was because of a song he liked, but Loras and I figured he just wanted something that mostly rhymed with Renly.”

That made Jaime laugh out loud and he was glad when Brienne joined in, her smile finally broad and open once more. 

“He couldn’t convince us otherwise,” Brienne said with a happy sigh. “I loved him, but he was still so… Renly.”

“Vainglorious?” Jaime asked, prodding his knee against hers.

“Vainglorious,” Brienne granted him and pressed back. 

###### 

A couple hours later, as they were finally making some headway, Jaime’s phone rang - Oberyn’s number flashed across the screen. 

Jaime realized with a start that he hadn’t filled him or Ellaria in on the latest goings on, what with the way everything happened so quickly and how it hadn’t felt right to say anything until Brienne knew for certain that things would go her way. He answered with a smile, ready to spread the good news, but he soon lost all levity. 

“You’re kidding me,” he replied when Oberyn finished his fiery spiel. Brienne looked over with concern, Jaime barely catching it as he pinched his nose between his fingers. “Does anyone know what her next move is?”

“What’s going on?” Brienne mouthed silently just before Jaime cursed and hung up.

“This is why people should never go into business with family,” Jaime groaned. 

“Isn’t your brother your partner?” Brienne asked, amused despite his suddenly foul mood. 

“There are few exceptions and there are times where even Tyrion makes me second guess my own choices,” Jaime told her. Sighing roughly, he took a look around the mess they had made. “I’m sorry, but I have to go to Dorne. Oberyn’s niece has managed to fuck up a perfectly good merger and I need to go sort things out, as soon as possible.”

“Oh,” Brienne said softly. She took a look around and gritted her teeth as she took in the jumble of half-assembled parts, likely realizing that it was a much more overwhelming prospect for one person to take on alone. 

Jaime’s stomach wrenched at the thought of leaving, especially as things were starting to settle down for her. Nevertheless, he sent off a quick text to Peck to arrange his travel and then another to Tyrion that he promptly responded to with a long line of inventive curses. 

“It won’t be more than a few days,” Jaime assured her, “maybe not even that long, most of my time will likely be spent getting Arianne’s head out of her ass. And Oberyn’s angry enough that he’ll let me do things my way, that’s always the most efficient option.”

“No, no, do what you have to. I’ll keep Tiger, too, so don’t worry about that either,” Brienne said quickly. She struggled to stand and Jaime jumped up to lend her a hand, steadying her as she got on her feet. “I’m sorry, I know that it seemed like that was a done deal.”

“It’s the Dornish, I should have known something would send a spanner into the works at the last second,” Jaime said grudgingly. “Look, don’t do this on your own, okay? If you don’t want to wait for me, at least get Margaery over here, maybe even Sansa. Or I’ll have Peck come over. Or I can just call the shop and they can send-”

“It’s all right-”

“And I definitely want to make it to some of those classes, don’t let Margaery hog them all, I’ll go with you as soon as I get back-”

“Jaime, it’s okay.” Brienne cut off his nervous prattling by hugging him. “I understand.”

He relaxed into her arms, sighing unhappily. “I promise this isn’t a really convoluted way to get out of putting the crib together.”

Brienne laughed against his ear. “That didn’t even occur to me, but now that you've said it…”

Jaime shook his head and let her go after one last squeeze. “I need to go pack. If Peck’s done his job right - and he usually does - he’s probably already arranged my flight for tonight.”

“Go,” Brienne said, giving him a gentle push toward the door. She lightly cleared her throat and said, “At least you’ll get something good out of it.”

Jaime paused at the odd note in her voice. “What’s that?”

“Well, Oberyn and Ellaria,” Brienne said in a strangely fumbling way. “You’ll get to see them at least. Maybe sort out the, you know, your stress over all this.”

All the frustration and anger that had been spurring him to the door came to a crashing halt. Jaime stared at Brienne, his brain not quite computing what she was saying for several lengthy moments and then he shook his head quickly. “Brienne, that’s not-”

“It’s great, in a way, I know things have been really tense around here-”

“Brienne,” Jaime said firmly, stopping her short, but he couldn’t quite find the coherence to continue smoothly. “You- you’ve gotta… Brienne, all that? That’s done. We aren’t… that’s not happening anymore.”

Brienne rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Come on, Jaime.”

“No,” Jaime repeated. “Trust me, it’s not.”

They remained at a standstill, Brienne’s confusion obvious and Jaime desperate for her to understand, frustrated that he didn’t have the time to explain, that even if he did that maybe Brienne wouldn’t believe that either.

All he could do was step closer and say, “The last thing I want is for you to think that something is happening when it’s not. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” Brienne said slowly, but there was a way in which she said it that left Jaime with the distinct impression that she was just humoring him. 

Before he could say anything further, his phone dinged with an incoming message. Peck was - infuriatingly for once - as dependable as ever and Jaime sighed. “I’ve got to go, my flight is taking off in an hour.”

“I’ll figure out the crib,” Brienne promised, much to Jaime’s aggravation.

He could only lean forward to press a kiss to her cheek then swear, “I’ll call you when I get there.”

Brienne blinked in surprise, but said nothing else as Jaime gave her one last look and headed out the door. 

###### 

Jaime stopped halfway back to his apartment, letting out a rough breath as he did. He spun on his heel almost without thinking, stalking back to Brienne’s door and knocking hurriedly, bracing his hands on either side of the frame when she opened it. 

“Jaime?” 

“I’m in love with you.”

Brienne’s face went slack, her eyes wide. The words that had escaped his mouth hung between them for a long moment, the space thick with it, incapable of erasure. There was nothing for Jaime to do but barrel forward. 

“I am. In love with you. And it’s a shit time for me to tell you, I know that. Things are complicated enough for you without me adding to it.” Jaime rapped at the doorway with his fist and pushed himself back, put his hands on his hips instead of reaching toward her like he so badly wanted. “But at least this is a good thing, or it is for me. I can only hope it is for you. I’ve never… this is new. And I’m a selfish fuck for putting this on you, to give you something else to sort through, but I don’t think it’s wrong for you to know that you’re loved. Because I do. Love you, I mean. ”

Throughout his confession, Brienne had put her palms on her belly, clenching it more and more tightly as he spoke. There was no way to ignore it, so he gestured toward her and said, “You’ve got a lot going on and you don’t need to - I’m not expecting that you feel the same. I won’t lie, I’ll still hope that maybe one day you’ll let me be more than the guy with the dog across the way, more than just a friend. But until then - hell, even if you don’t… What I’m saying is that nothing needs to change. I just wanted you to know. Nothing is going to happen in Dorne because I love you and there is _nothing_ in Dorne that holds a candle to that.”

Brienne stared at him for several seconds, each passing moment leaving him less and less sure of a positive reply. At last, she said, her voice raspy, “Okay, then. Now I know.”

“Okay,” Jaime said shortly. 

“Okay.” 

“Good night then, I guess.”

“Good night. Um. Have a safe trip.”

She shut the door and Jaime hissed out an impassioned _fuck_ before he turned and raced back to his apartment to pack. 


	7. Chapter 7

_A few days_ ended up being nothing but foolish optimism. 

The speed with which he traveled to Dorne was only a warm up in comparison to the pace he had to keep once he arrived. Jaime hit the ground running, gathering information and arbitrating discussions between Martell Mechanics and Uller Automation, who were furious that the trade secrets they’d shared in good faith had gone missing along with other blueprints and sensitive data. Though Jaime was able to smooth over the harshest clashes between the two, all leads of where Arianne Martell and her cohorts had disappeared to had gone dry within hours of them doing so. 

It was on the third day - after settling the worst of the infighting - that Jaime called Tyrion to send in the muscle. Bronn Blackwater showed up the next morning and rooted Arianne Martell from her hiding place by that afternoon. 

It should have been enough to find her, but it took another full twenty-four hours before Arianne gave up the USB with the proprietary information she’d copied, which she’d planned on using to form her own connections with someone across the Narrow Sea. Days six and seven were spent painstakingly renegotiating what had previously been an equally-lauded merger, another in the long line of successes thanks to Lannister Intermediary.

Arianne bore the brunt of the blame, never mind that she hadn’t been the only one in on the plot, only the most widely known. Jaime knew he should be furious at her, especially since he was only able to save the deal by the skin of his teeth; he had, after all, marked her as a risk nearly three years before when they’d opened dialogue between the companies.

“You do know how we could have avoided all of this,” Jaime said slowly, catching Oberyn’s eye with a significant look as he handed his tumbler over for another refill. The end of day seven warranted it and the bar in Oberyn’s office had exactly what he needed, in spades. But Jaime couldn’t let this opportunity pass, especially when he had Oberyn’s undivided attention now that everyone had parted ways. 

“I believe I can surmise what is on your mind,” Oberyn said with a tilt of his head, taking the exquisitely cut glass and pouring more amber liquid into it. He placed it in Jaime’s open palm and grudgingly admitted, “Though I’ve attempted to speak to Doran about it on multiple occasions, my beloved brother refuses to see reason. As it stands, he is much too angry with Arianne to see clearly for the time being.”

“That girl- that woman has wanted nothing more than her father’s approval this entire time. I told him from the beginning that he was undervaluing her contributions, her drive to be involved. If he had listened to me, as he claimed he had, we never would have had this wild goose chase.” Jaime threw back the drink and set the glass on the table with a loud _clack._ “We’re still looking into the offer she had from the rival company, but I’m certain they’re hardly a threat now. It reads to me as a high likelihood that they would have just tried stealing the information from Arianne instead of taking her on as a partner. Yet another party that insists on underestimating her.”

“Which means this was all for nothing.” Oberyn sighed and gestured at Jaime with the decanter. When he silently declined, Oberyn set it aside and settled into the chair opposite Jaime, bringing up an ankle over the opposite knee, setting his arms on the manchette and curling his hands over the ends. “An imprudent niece. An injudicious brother. You see what I have to deal with here? My head hasn’t stopped aching in days and I haven’t been home in just as long, thanks to their short-sightedness.”

“Don’t fall into the same line of thought Doran has,” Jaime said warningly. “Arianne is not a child, she’s a person desperate for recognition from the people who matter to her most. That kind of desperation leads to very poor decisions, trust me.”

Oberyn dropped his head back and let out a groan. “Your rebuke has, once again, been noted. Jaime, it’s over! Let’s have another drink, we are highly deserving of it.”

“I’m good,” Jaime muttered, suddenly exhausted as he considered the week and its rigmarole. Now that he’d sorted the whole mess, there was nothing to keep his mind busy and he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the alternative just yet. 

That he picked up his phone to frown at its empty screen was not lost on Oberyn, but the other man only smiled serenely and asked, “How much longer can we keep you in Dorne?”

“Peck set my flight for first thing in the morning, everything tonight was booked,” Jaime replied. He opened his phone anyway, despite the unpromising front screen; he was uncertain what would have been worse, silence on Brienne’s part or more of the spare, unfailingly polite messages that they had sent back and forth.

_still stuck here, bronn thinks he knows where shes at but its going to take some more time_

_That sounds frustrating._

_it is_

_Tiger is doing fine though._

_thats good_

_Margaery says hi. We’ve started clearing out the bedroom._

_thats good too_

_Yeah, seems to be._

_tell margaery i said hi back_

_never mind dont do that_

_forget i said that_

_Too late. She’s already asked for a souvenir._

Margaery was going to get a swift kick in the ass, that’s what she was going to get, considering the only text message she’d sent him was: _YOU TOLD HER YOU LOVED HER AND THEN YOU LEFT. YOU DUMBASS. D-U-M-B-A-S-S_. 

As if he needed anyone else to confirm what he’d already been thinking. Talk about _too late._ Jaime hadn’t bothered replying.

“All right then, let’s be off.” Oberyn’s voice jerked him back to the present and Jaime gave him a sheepish grimace, tucking his phone back in his jacket pocket and standing to match Oberyn as he rose. “Ellaria’s waiting on us.”

“Oberyn…” Jaime bit back a groan. He’d been staying alone at the hotel all week, thankful with each passing night that the pair of them hadn’t shown up to resume their liaisons. Anytime Oberyn ventured to bring up anything personal, Jaime diverted him, saying he had to concentrate on the task at hand and that they could discuss things once everything was settled. 

Apparently that time had come.

There were different speeches in his head, a mishmash of words that he’d tested out, each of them a variation of gratitude for their time together and maybe a little lusty at the memories, but mostly hopeful that they would indeed maintain the friendship they had formed. Perhaps he owed it to Ellaria to tell them together. It was hardly as if Jaime thought that they’d push him for anything he didn’t want, that had never been their way, it was what he’d liked the most about them, really-

“You are thinking _very_ loudly,” Oberyn observed with transparent amusement. 

“I can’t have sex with you anymore,” Jaime blurted out. 

“Of course you won’t, you’ve moved on,” Oberyn replied easily, as if Jaime wasn’t standing there, horrified once more that the words that he should have said carefully came out in a blunder instead. “Want to come over for dinner? Keep in mind that your answer has no bearing on the decision - Ellaria has commanded it. Let’s go.”

“That’s… that’s it?” Jaime asked, gobsmacked. “Just like that?”

“That’s it,” Oberyn agreed. He stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking on the soles of his feet. “Unless you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Jaime said, the immediacy in his response tempered by the firmness with which he said it.

“Then that’s it,” Oberyn repeated. 

The relief he felt at Oberyn’s undramatic acceptance was short-lived. With that issue out of the way, there was nothing stopping from Jaime saying, “I told Brienne I love her.”

Oberyn brightened, his mouth opening in a wide grin. “Excellent.”

“A week ago, before I came here,” Jaime went on, “and we haven’t talked about it since.”

The pleased smile on Oberyn’s face slowly slid away. “Because… you’ve been so busy?”

“Because I told her I love her and she said _okay_ ,” Jaime answered. 

Oberyn sucked in a breath through his teeth. He leaned forward, as if bracing under the weight of Jaime’s miserable revelation. “Ah, I see.”

Jaime nodded and went to collect his briefcase from where he’d left it by the door. 

His friend followed after him, confusion obvious in his voice. “Did she say anything else? From what you’ve shared of her, Miss Tarth hardly seems the sort to be so callous.”

“No… no, it was more that she was shocked. I may have been as well, it’s not as if I meant to say it.” Jaime ran his palms over his face. “But I was on my way here and she mentioned you and Ellaria and I couldn’t let her think that we’d-”

“You’ve told her about us?” Oberyn looked, somehow, more intrigued by this than the clumsy confession of love. 

“Yeah, weeks ago,” Jaime replied, trying to recount it. “A result of Ellaria’s meddling, if you must know. She forced my hand when she sent a picture of the two of you.”

Oberyn laughed, delighted. “I remember her saying something about that, but I didn’t think it had come to anything, you hadn’t said.”

“Well, it worked,” Jaime grumbled. “So, yes, Brienne knows.”

“And what did she say?”

Jaime shrugged. “She didn’t really care. That wasn’t the issue. I care. I didn’t want her to think I was here getting my rocks off when that’s not… if she’s not… ” 

Once he trailed off, Oberyn waited for several seconds, seemingly considering one thing or another, discarding them silently before saying, “I fear if I ask much more, Ellaria will be quite cross with me. And more so with you.”

“Because I never piss her off,” Jaime said dryly. 

Laughing again, Oberyn drew closer until he could place his hands on either side of Jaime’s head. They were of a height and it was a familiar position, though this time he felt a flash of disappointment, that Oberyn would make a move after he’d agreed things were over. But then Oberyn tilted Jaime’s head down so he could press his lips to Jaime’s hairline, affectionate but undemanding. Jaime was still puzzling over it when Oberyn pulled back. 

“Come now, I don’t think the situation is quite as dire as you think,” Oberyn said confidently, lowering one hand to slap Jaime on the shoulder. “But we really must wait for Ellaria, she’ll have my balls if she’s not there to hear how you’ve made a sorry mess of this.”

“Wow, why _wouldn’t_ I want to join you for dinner now?”

###### 

The Martell compound was something that could never exist in King’s Landing, with its numerous high rises and crowded streets, everyone living in close quarters in order to remain near the central hub of the city. The cities of Dorne were far more spread out, a reflection of its people in the way the neighborhoods gracefully ebbed and flowed, parted by long swatches of desert coast and then bursts of greenery where nature had been coaxed into flourishing. Between them came frequent glimpses of the coastline, its deep blue waters dangerous-looking in the darkening evening. 

He stared out the car window at the quickly shadowing vistas as he recalled Brienne’s pale face and the way it seemed as though a barrier had been thrown up between them even before she shut the door. The more he dissected the memory, the louder the sound of the closing door became, the snap of the latch sharper than ever. He could hardly remember exactly what he had said, only that he’d meant it and admonished himself for confusing her further. 

Jaime had known how he felt, deep down, though he’d refused to put it into words even in the safety of his mind, all until the moment he said it aloud. For the few relationships he’d been in, Jaime had never before gotten so far in, been so completely bound to someone by the reckless whims of his heart. 

He loved her. 

He loved Brienne more than anyone else he had ever known in his damned life. Jaime couldn’t fathom finding anyone that he could love as much as he did Brienne, nevermind that he wouldn’t even bother searching for someone else as long as she was out there, somewhere. And perhaps not even then.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Jaime contemplated aloud, as if Oberyn had been privy to his thoughts during the entire ride. “That I said I love her. You weren’t surprised, were you?”

“I confess, I was not.” Oberyn toggled something on his phone so that the screen went black, then took a moment to completely close the barrier between them and the driver. “I know enough that you do not trust easily, nor do you invite people into your life without due contemplation.”

Jaime laughed humorlessly. “When it comes to Brienne, I can’t say I’ve done as much contemplating as I should.”

“Which only strengthens the evidence of your regard, at least to us,” Oberyn said with a half smile. “Only a truly extraordinary woman would make you lose your wits in such a way.”

“She is that,” Jaime murmured. 

They didn’t say anything else as they finally arrived at the Martell property; the gates spread open to reveal a seemingly endless allotment of land that boasted multiple homes and rich, luxurious landscaping. Jaime had been there only once, when he’d joined Doran in celebratory drinks, as they congratulated themselves over setting Martell Mechanical on the path to prominence in Westeros. 

Jaime may have grown up in the ancient and respected Casterly Rock, but it was cold and foreboding in comparison to Sunspear. Doran had invited him out on one of their yachts, where they’d continued toasting their newfound partnership; between the view of the beautiful grounds from the sea and the awe-inducing sight of a pod of whales in the distance, Jaime had been rendered speechless. _See!_ Doran had announced excitedly, eliciting a fond smile from Oberyn. It was the most animated Jaime had ever seen Doran, before or since. _Massive, gorgeous beasts - look, the smaller one, that’s barely more than a babe. They say the bond between the mother and child is the strongest in the whole group, which is saying something._

Jaime had hoped to return one day, perhaps he’d even held a quiet hope that Brienne would join him eventually, so he could tell her about that, too.

It had been more than startling to realize that almost all of the Martells lived within walking distance of one another, meandering in and out of each other’s homes at will. Doran had the palatial residence in the center of the grounds, but even he wasn’t immune to his siblings, nieces and nephews walking about his house as if they were in their own. 

Jaime had never been in Oberyn and Ellaria’s home, their infrequent rendezvous taking place at the hotel that the Martells owned and were thus able to guarantee their privacy. It was the same one that Peck had automatically booked him in for the week, leaving Jaime anxious that they would appear, though now he realized the foolishness of it. Ellaria was, after all, the first to recognize that Jaime’s heart was elsewhere, that it had found a place anywhere to begin with.

They entered the living room to find it in chaos. Three or four girls - Jaime guessed they were girls, Oberyn frequently referred to them as such, even if a couple of them had shorn hair and were wielding long batons - raced about, dodging and chasing each other in turn around the couches. Brightly embroidered pillows flew through the air and one of girls bellowed victoriously as she jettisoned herself from the arm of the sofa, only to be caught mid flight by her father. 

“What is all this?” Oberyn raised the child up and jostled her in the air, inducing spirited giggles instead. “I brought home a friend to meet my little ladies and there are none to be found! Who are these rapscallions and what have you done with my sweet children?”

Oberyn’s entrance and pronouncement caused the flurry of activity to abruptly halt and then they descended on him, little hands grasping on to his legs and offended voices insisting that the one in his arms be put down so someone else could be picked up instead. 

Catching Jaime’s eyes - his own dancing merrily - Oberyn introduced them, “Tyene, Elia, Obella and Dorea. This is our good friend, Jaime Lannister. What do we say?”

The girls eyed him suspiciously, but as one nodded and said, “Hello, Mr. Lannister.”

“Ah, I knew my girls were somewhere underneath all this grime.” Oberyn wiped his thumb across a particularly grotty cheek as he said it and Obella jerked back, a cross look on her face. It took everything Jaime could not to laugh. “Loreza seems to be missing, however, as well as your mother-”

“Present and at my absolute limit,” Ellaria answered as she breezed into the room, an even smaller child in her arms. She flashed a grin at Jaime and then kissed Oberyn full on the mouth before handing the girl over, leaving Oberyn to juggle the two as she opened her arms and pulled Jaime into a hug. “You are a vision, Jaime Lannister, the gods know that I’ve needed you to get your ass over here, if for no other reason than that my husband could finally come home, too. It’s all sorted then, with Arianne?”

“As best as it can be.” Jaime glanced around the room, taking in its colorful decor and how it was half in shambles. The ceilings above were vaulted and crisscrossed with dark beams of wood. Beautiful - and likely priceless - paintings were hung in elaborate frames. The back wall was made of glass and revealed a stunning perspective of the southern ocean. 

But there were also plastic plates with scraps of mostly eaten food on the table and a cup tipped over, lying in a pool of red juice. Little socks and and shoes littered the floor, along with throw blankets that probably belonged on the couches, and most of the pillows had found their way to the ground as well. The girls had resumed their clamoring to be the next to be lifted into Oberyn’s embrace. It was messy and noisy and Jaime wondered at the ache in his chest as he observed it. 

Looking back at Ellaria, Jaime said, “You have a beautiful home.”

“I wouldn’t touch anything in here, the housekeeper made the mistake of giving them jelly sandwiches after their evening judo training,” Ellaria replied, grimacing. She circled her palms out and added, “I have no doubt that everything is slightly… sticky.”

“Yes, I’m seeing that,” Oberyn cut in, sniffing at Loreza’s hair and humming. “Grape, I see, always a good choice.”

“And a timely one, as it happens, because they need to wash up and you’ve missed the last six nights,” Ellaria said haughtily. She turned Oberyn in place and smacked his backside. “Earn your keep!”

Oberyn snickered, but gave Jaime a grin when he passed and said, “It might be a while.”

“The latest consensus is lavender bubbles, darling,” Ellaria called after him.

“Noted! Oh, and Jaime told Brienne he loves her!”

“You bastard,” Jaime breathed out, mindful of the gaggle of children following after said bastard, and Ellaria whirled around to face him.

“You _did?_ ”

“Don’t get too excited,” Jaime warned her. “The story will not end as happily as you’d like.”

“The story is still in progress, as all stories are,” Ellaria replied archly, “and you must catch me up on it as we ready dinner.”

Jaime couldn’t help but smile. “Jelly sandwiches? My favorite.”

Ellaria rolled her eyes and threaded her arm over his elbow to tug him out of the room. “Some days I wonder about you, I really do.”

###### 

It was a first for him, working around someone else in the kitchen. He’d been too nervous to let Brienne help and Margaery only heckled him from the sidelines, but with Ellaria, Jaime had to frequently shift his stance and watch where he was going, to be mindful of her presence. They were constantly moving, Ellaria tossing out instructions as Jaime chopped the ingredients that she wanted - showing off, just a little, his newfound knife skills - and then passed over the spices she requested, pleased that he was able to recognize them on sight instead of having her point at one after the other until he happened upon the correct item. 

The story was easier to tell, in bits and pieces, as they worked in tandem. Oberyn popped in and out between chasing after his soap-sudded daughters/escape artists, catching the larger points as he did. For Jaime’s part, it was a relief that he didn’t have to meet Ellaria’s eyes as he said the worst parts of it, from the horrible argument that had made everything spiral down, to their last face-to-face interaction where Brienne had heard him out and then shut him out immediately after. He was able to distract himself from it, too, by focusing on deveining shrimp and measuring out rice. 

Jaime discovered that their kitchen, which at first seemed oversized and grandiose - and that was saying something, coming from him - was in fact a space he wouldn’t mind having for himself. Even if he cooked for three at most, Jaime had to frequently shuffle and pile items on top of each other any time he attempted to put together a dish. He said as much to Ellaria when she laughed after he openly coveted her counter space. 

“You just need to be more organized,” Ellaria told him, a chastising look on her face, “and not fly by the seat of your pants.”

Jaime ignored her insinuation. “No, what I need” - he lifted up the edge of the cutting board that was built into the kitchen island and swept the stubby ends of the onions and bell peppers he’d diced down into the compost bin stored below - “is this. That’s fucking convenient as all hells.”

“That’s certainly true,” Ellaria allowed. 

Later, she jerked her head in the direction of the wide open doors that led to their back deck, the pan she’d had simmering on the stove held carefully between her oven-mitted hands. Jaime had offered to take it from her and gotten only an affronted _hmph_ in response. 

Ellaria had set up the grill before he’d even started helping and Jaime sat down as she used it for the last step for the dish, a paella filled with soon to be tender shrimp, savory meats and dark shelled mussels; Jaime’s stomach rumbled hungrily at the thought of it. In the meanwhile, Ellaria dropped into the deck chair across from him, after passing him one of the bottles of beer she’d pulled from a cooler. They clinked them together in pleased camaraderie.

“So she’s going to keep the baby,” Ellaria said, smiling to herself and then drinking deeply. Jaime mimicked her then turned to take in the ever churning ocean that made up their backyard. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Jaime replied. “It’s all settled, custody-wise. Brienne will have primary, but she had it written in that the kid will still have regular visits with Stannis and Olenna, once he gets old enough.”

“She’s very compassionate,” Ellaria observed. “And generous.” 

“That she is,” Jaime agreed.

“And you love her.”

Jaime sighed. Ellaria had already known, hadn’t needed for Oberyn to tell her or even for Jaime to spell it out. He wondered when exactly she’d put it together and suspected that whenever it was, she wouldn’t be wrong. “That I do.”

“So what next?” 

“Nothing,” Jaime said with another sigh. “Her answer was literally _okay, now I know_. Not… unkindly. But it wasn’t something she was prepared for. I know she wasn’t. But it was either tell her then or let her think that I was here in bed with you and Oberyn, and that wasn’t the better option.”

“I don’t know, I’ve always enjoyed it,” Ellaria teased him. At Jaime’s flat look, she chortled even louder. “Ugh, so serious! No matter the circumstance, it was going to come out sooner or later, what did you expect?”

“Can’t say I expected it, but it would have been nice if she said it back,” Jaime muttered. 

Ellaria didn’t answer, only took another sip and smiled, completely untroubled, then dipped her head back to look at the night sky.

Jaime waited, and waited some more, before finally asking, “What? What are you not saying?”

“Nothing, I’m just enjoying this,” Ellaria spoke upwards, her smile spreading even wider. 

“What, that I made a fool of myself?”

“That you took a chance. That you put your heart on the line for once.” Ellaria dropped her head to one side so she could catch his eye. “I hoped you would. I wanted it so badly for you and now you have. It’s a glorious thing, is it not?”

“To be completely hung out to dry? To tell someone how I feel and literally get the door shut in my face?” Jaime guzzled down the last of the bottle. “No, it’s bullshit.”

Ellaria laughed softly. 

“It’s not funny.”

“No, no, it’s not funny,” Ellaria replied, her amusement fading, but her voice still thoughtful. “Tell me again, how did it come about?”

“I already-”

“Humor me.”

Jaime groaned, but began again, this time cutting straight to the night where they’d started putting together the crib. Fortunately, Oberyn showed up around that time, lamenting his pruned hands but triumphant that he’d gotten each of his daughters settled in for the night. He took over the grill to dish out the meal; after passing out their bowls, he sat next to Ellaria so she could throw her legs over his lap and listened in. 

“No paella for them?” Jaime ventured to ask. 

Ellaria snorted, quite inelegantly. “At their age, nuggets of dubious origin are about all they’re willing to eat. You’ll see soon enough.”

“I don’t see how, if they’re all tucked in for the night.”

She rolled her eyes, grandly and with great annoyance. “Keep going, Jaime.”

So he kept going and when Jaime got to the end, he pretended that Brienne’s blank expression wasn’t still etched his mind by shrugging and saying, “That’s it. Not sure why you needed to hear it twice.”

Ellaria looked at her husband and he gave her an equally droll look back, almost as if they were having a full conversation without a single word said aloud. Jaime had seen them do it before, in a much different setting, but the sentiment was the same. When they did speak, it wasn’t much of an improvement. 

“He doesn‘t get it,” Oberyn said, almost apologetically. 

“He’s not usually this thick, is he?” Ellaria asked. 

“Well, not in the manner you’re asking-”

“True, but in regards to how she-”

“And he says she wasn’t bothered before-”

“Exactly as I thought-”

“ _Will you stop that?_ ” Jaime demanded. 

Ellaria didn’t bother to hide her laugh, but Oberyn at least had the grace to say, “I suppose we should tell him.”

“Tell me _what_?” 

Ellaria shifted forward, putting aside her empty bowl to rest her elbows on her knees, her hands pressed together and pointed at Jaime. “You,” Ellaria shook her head resolutely, “need to stop thinking about the end and instead focus on how it started.”

Jaime squinted at her, puzzled. 

Ellaria barely held back another eye roll, glancing at Oberyn over her shoulder; he only chuckled under his breath and made a small gesture with his hand, as if to say _feel free_.

“Jaime. If she didn’t care - if what we used to have between us didn’t matter to Brienne” - Ellaria spoke even more slowly and Jaime felt a little insulted to hear it, but listened all the same - “why did she ask you about it? Why bring it up at all?”

“I…” Jaime sat back. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Ellaria said. She waited until he looked in her direction, her expression genuine and unambiguous. He’d always liked that about her. A person knew exactly what Ellaria thought of them, whether good or bad. “You’re just so used to not trying, to not putting yourself at risk, that you’re focusing on the worst of it rather than the best, the most promising.”

Jaime looked down at his hands, rubbing his fingertips together as he considered it. Brienne _had_ been the one to bring it up. Inwardly, he’d considered his former relationship with the Martells as completely over for weeks, months. It had been far from his mind since Brienne had come into his life. Reflecting on Ellaria’s prodding, Jaime contemplated on when he’d mentioned Dorne, he’d thought only of work; when Brienne heard Dorne, she’d thought of him with other people. 

“But what does that _mean_?” It was only because of Ellaria’s sympathetic expression that he didn’t feel embarrassed about the doleful note in his voice.

“I’d assume she’s still figuring it out herself,” Ellaria said thoughtfully. “But from what you’ve said about her, Brienne doesn’t seem to be completely immune to you.”

Behind her Oberyn nodded. “I’ve told you from the beginning, nothing about this suggests you can’t both pursue this, Jaime. It’s a fool’s errand, waiting for the right time. Find the right _person_ and work the rest of it out together.”

Ellaria settled back into the curve of Oberyn’s arm, clasping one of his hands between hers; Oberyn leaned in and kissed her temple, and Jaime couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at the picture they made. Truthfully, more than anything, he wanted it for himself. All of it. The home, the comfort, the children running around and making a mess underfoot. And he’d found the person he wanted it with. 

“Time...” - Jaime cleared his throat, it had gone dry and rough when he tried to speak - “time is still important, right now, Oberyn. She needs it. I know she does. What I’m asking of her isn’t a simple thing.”

“No, I imagine it’s not.” Oberyn pressed his lips together and then ducked his head slightly. “Patience has never been my strongest suit. Once I found Ellaria, I did what I felt I must.”

“Though there was fallout from it,” Ellaria pondered and gave Oberyn a grim glance. “There’s a reason why your three eldest don’t come around very much.”

“They’ll understand one day,” Oberyn protested. “When they find the person that makes them feel that the world has tilted on its axis.”

“One day,” Ellaria murmured, but she looked dejected to say it. 

Jaime wanted to ask more, but Ellaria made a visible effort to brush away her disappointment. Her face turned mildly stern and she asked, “So what have you done since then? Wallowed in your typical self-loathing and pretended nothing was wrong? Have you even tried speaking with her?”

“We’ve texted,” Jaime replied, more than a little offended. “Not much, but some.”

“ _Hi, how are you, I’m fine, you? How’s the dog_?” Ellaria attempted a dull approximation of his voice and Jaime flinched as she recited some of the messages almost verbatim. “Good gods, Jaime. Call the woman.”

“What, _now_?”

“Would you rather wait until you’ve gotten home tomorrow and you’re already on her doorstep? That’ll look quite stupid. Yes, _now._ ”

Knowing that there was little he could do to disabuse her of the soundness of the idea, Jaime dug out his phone. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Start with hello, tell her you’ll be home soon and that you wanted to let her know,” Ellaria instructed him, much like she had in the kitchen. Oberyn looked entirely too amused and Jaime scowled at him. “And try not to be a miserable little creature if she doesn’t say exactly what you want to hear, the whole point is just to actually communicate with the woman for once instead of shoving words at her then running away.”

“If this goes badly, I’m blaming you,” Jaime growled at her, but dialed anyway.

“I promise it won’t,” Ellaria swore. 

Jaime brought the phone to his ear, his stomach clenching when it rang once, twice-

“Hello? Jaime?”

“Hey, Brienne, hi,” Jaime blurted out, shifting sideways in his chair so that he couldn’t see Ellaria and Oberyn’s reactions to his fumbling in real time. He saw Ellaria rise out of the corner of his eye, taking the chair next to him so he couldn’t avoid her. It was difficult to both glare at her and speak levelly to Brienne, but he was able to earnestly say, “I hope it’s not too late.”

The connotation of the statement hit him in the next second and Jaime clenched his eyes shut to block out the sight of Ellaria slapping her hand over her face. 

“At night, I mean. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was still up,” Brienne replied, sounding awkward. Awkward from what exactly, he couldn’t say for certain, but at least she had answered. 

“Good, um… good.” Jaime fidgeted and made himself stop, remembering what Ellaria had said before she’d taken the closer seat. It hardly helped that she was shaking her fist at the night sky, as if despairing over him and asking the gods why she bothered. “Everything finally settled down over here, I’ll be heading back in the morning.”

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.” She sounded it, too and Jaime relaxed the faintest amount. 

“Yeah, it’ll be good to be home.”

There were a few beats of silence, the stretch of time in which Jaime held his breath to see what Brienne would say in response. He realized that he was used to filling the space between them and he felt a burst of hope when Brienne finally said, “It’s been weird, not having you here. Tiger’s missed you. I think Salmon has, too. He keeps going to the kitchen. I think he got used to you feeding him scraps, he knows I won’t.”

Jaime let out a small huff of laughter.

It cut short when Brienne said, “I’ve missed you, too.”

He swallowed hard, feeling as if his heart was spasming in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… I’ll be there soon.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Jaime echoed. Suddenly there were so many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to tell her, ready to burst out of him with the barest provocation. It must have shown on his face because Ellaria shook her head, her eyes round and warning. He hoped he was making the right choice to say, “I’m here with Ellaria and Oberyn, actually, we just had din-”

“Ridiculous man,” Ellaria whispered fiercely, and then yanked the phone out of his hand. “Brienne! Darling, at last!”

“Ellaria, no-” Jaime tried to get the phone back, but she quickly smacked his hand away, rising to get entirely out of his reach and then briskly walked towards the house. He could barely hear her say, “I’ve wanted to meet you for ages, but Jaime is terribly selfish and rude…”

“Oh good gods,” Jaime uttered, staring after her.

“Too late,” Oberyn replied with the air of a man that knew the battle was lost. “If it helps, she’ll make sure Brienne knows there’s nothing untoward happening between us.”

“Sure, because that’s what Brienne needs right now, a strange woman taking over our conversation and saying don’t worry, I won’t be having sex with your neighbor tonight.”

“Well, she wouldn’t be wrong,” Oberyn said lightheartedly. 

Jaime rubbed at his temples and groaned. “She was going to take the phone no matter what I said, wasn’t she?”

“My dear Ellaria - she is not patient, either,” Oberyn agreed. 

He resigned himself to the latest mishap for only a few seconds, but then a blazing hope overcame him. “She missed me,” Jaime said wonderingly. “That’s what she said, before.”

A broad grin spread across Oberyn’s face; it was almost as if he had been lit from within. 

“I have a chance, don’t I?” Jaime said slowly.

“More than, I suspect,” Oberyn answered. 

“It’s not simple,” Jaime told him again. “Not at all, not when she’s going to have the baby soon, with the way she’s still working things out with everything that’s happened-”

“You’ll sort it out together,” Oberyn assured him. The conviction in the way he said it was astonishing and Jaime wished he could be as assured. 

“You say that like you know for certain.” Jaime wanted it to be, very much, but until he heard it from Brienne herself, he couldn’t shed the lingering doubts. “Like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

Oberyn looked as peaceful as Jaime yearned to be. “Ah, my dear friend, isn’t it?”

###### 

Ellaria returned his phone sometime later, the call disconnected, and Jaime only half wished that Brienne was still on the line. The other half knew that Ellaria had likely saved him from stepping wrong yet again, but he decided to keep that particular feeling of gratitude from her.

He found it easier to hold his tongue when Ellaria boldly informed him that she’d had a guest room made up for him. When he protested that all his things were still at the hotel, she gave him a long-suffering look and led him to the room to show that she’d already had his things packed up and sent over after his arrival at their home.

They exchanged their good nights, Ellaria enveloping him in a gigantic hug that felt at odds with her diminutive size. That she quietly told him, “I really like her,” almost shyly, left him feeling a little more magnanimous towards her.

“I do, too,” Jaime confessed. 

Ellaria patted his cheek before stepping back. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Promise?”

She stopped short; the pleading tone with which he’d unwittingly said the word caused her face to go drawn. Coming closer and reaching out to put her hands on his arms, Ellaria sounded immensely sad when she said, “I know someone hurt you.”

Jaime went still.

“I don’t know who or how, if it was one person or more,” Ellaria continued. “That’s not for me to ask, if you haven’t chosen to share it, but I could see it, once I really saw you.”

His next breath was shuddering and Jaime tried to not let the dread show on his face. 

“You don’t ever have to tell me, but you told Brienne, didn’t you?”

The hallway was silent and Jaime’s voice felt loud even when he spoke as quietly as he could. “I did.”

“That’s how I know. That’s how I know you’re going to be okay,” Ellaria replied softly. 

He thought on it for a long time after, once he burrowed under the blankets to fend off the cool, crisp ocean air that came through the open windows. It reminded him, distantly, of growing up in Casterly Rock, where no matter where he went, he could always hear the surf crashing against the shore. He’d forgotten, after all this time, how much he’d loved that. What little good there had been had gotten lost in the worst of it, where he’d tried to banish all of his memories so he could move on. 

All he’d done was bury it deep, Jaime realized. It was still there, the good and the bad, waiting to soothe and hurt depending on what fought to the surface first. He felt suddenly, ridiculously, like crying. For what Cersei had done and how nothing had ever been the same, how Tyrion had suffered, and how he himself patched over all of it and lived as if none of it had long-lasting effects aside from making him slightly guarded. There was nothing slight about it. It was only seeing Brienne’s struggle - and Margaery’s, even Stannis’ - that he’d finally put together how he’d been hobbling along, as well.

The thought of her calmed him, even if she was far away and things still uncertain. Her steadfastness and kindness in mind, Jaime reached over to pull his phone from the charger and opened up a message, smiling widely when Brienne wrote back. 

She wouldn’t fix him. She couldn’t fix it for him.

But if she could make it through the worst of it, so could he.

###### 

He’d never before wanted an elevator to both slow down and speed up at the same time. Jaime watched the flickering numbers that led him up to their floor, the highest level, his stomach in knots and thundering heart beating loudly in his ears. 

Bracing himself as the doors opened, Jaime pulled his luggage along and gave Brienne’s door a long look. As much as he wanted to go straight there, he made himself go to his apartment instead, heading inside, setting his bag on the bed and taking a moment to put his clenched hands on his hips and breathe. 

Space. He’d sworn to himself, reprimanded himself, to give her space. They’d see each other soon enough - Tiger was still with her, after all - but he’d promised her that nothing needed to change and he _needed_ to carry that through, no matter Oberyn and Ellaria’s optimism, no matter how Brienne had sounded when she said she missed him. 

Space. That was the key.

“You’ve had your say, now let her be,” Jaime muttered to himself, repeating what he’d chanted silently all the way from Dorne. “There are bigger things at stake. Get your shit together, Lann-”

A knock came at his front door. 

Jaime poked his head out from his bedroom, eyes wide.

Once he could get his feet moving, he approached the door cautiously; a ludicrous image came to his head, one where the frame grew snapping teeth around a gaping maw. Even that would have been less terrifying than opening the door to find Brienne standing there, ready to hand over his dog and say thanks, but no thanks, goodbye forever.

Urging himself to stop acting like the miserable creature that Ellaria accused him of being, Jaime ran a hand through his hair, opened the door and there she was. 

“Hey,” Jaime told her.

“Hi,” Brienne answered. Her eyes were big and unfathomably blue and, to his astonishment, relieved. 

“I was, uh,” Jaime scratched at the back of his head, “just settling in.”

“Do you need me to- I can go,” Brienne said quickly, throwing a thumb back over her shoulder.

“No, come in, please.” He stepped back to allow her in and didn’t comment when he didn’t see Tiger. It seemed less likely from the look of her that Brienne was here to wrench his heart from his chest and stomp all over it, but neither did she look entirely calm or unruffled. She looked… how he felt. Scared, unsure. 

Brienne held out a blue envelope towards him, her other hand spreading and rubbing against her outer thigh. When he took the paper, she matched her hand’s movement on the other side. “I was right,” she was saying as he appraised the thick parchment, “Margaery and Sansa are putting together a shower, it’s in a few weeks.”

“Damn,” Jaime muttered. He’d forgotten entirely. Brienne looked crestfallen and he hurried to explain, “I meant to message Margaery, to tell her the things that you said you needed. Just fell out of my head, I guess.”

“Well, we talked about it anyway,” Brienne said haltingly. “So she’s got the general idea. And there are things I still want to get on my own.”

“The crib still in pieces?” Jaime gave her a rueful half grin as he remembered how it resembled a disorganized jigsaw last he’d left it. “I know I left you with a mess.”

They stared at one another for several achingly long moments and Jaime felt the grin vanish. Brienne finally shook her head and said, “No, we figured it out, Margaery, Sansa and I.”

“Sounds like she’s coming around a lot,” Jaime said with faux-lightheartedness. “Sansa, I mean.”

“Yeah, she’s a sweetheart,” Brienne replied. “You’ll see soon enough, she’ll be at the shower. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Jaime repeated uselessly. 

When he couldn’t figure out what else to say, Jaime pulled out his keys and used the edge of one to split open the envelope. He pulled out the card within and a flurry of confetti burst out with it, floating out in front of him before landing at and on his feet. He looked down to see the shapes of bottles, carriages and pacifiers all over his floor. “Ah…”

Brienne covered her face with her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t know they… I saw the confetti, I should have known it got put somewhere.”

Jaime laughed lightly and toed the heap of paper. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve been thinking of redecorating. This seems as good a place as any to start.” 

He looked up to find Brienne peeking around her fingers, giving him a small smile, and he was at last able to release some of the tension that had been holding him rigid. “It’s good to see you,” he admitted. “You look… you look great.”

“You too,” Brienne replied. 

Jaime couldn’t help beaming at the warmth in her voice and the flush beginning to stain her cheeks.

“I was thinking of getting lunch,” Brienne went on, squaring her shoulders and surprising him further. “Would you like to join me?”

His thoughts raced in the scant seconds it took for him to compute what she was asking. The last they’d seen one another, she’d been pale and remote; there was an air of determination around her now, as if she was daring him to take back what he’d said, that things didn’t have to change. Lunch. They’d done lunch plenty of times. It was as good a place as any to test out their friendship in light of his confession. 

“Sure, yeah, let me just get my…” Jaime looked around and realized he still held his keys and his wallet was still in his pocket. “Nothing, I guess. I’m good to go.”

He tried to keep in his sigh as she spun on her heel and headed for the exit. All Jaime could do was shake the confetti off his shoes and follow. 

###### 

They didn’t say much on their walk to the corner cafe, the one they’d gone to after their first trip to the park together and several times since. Time and again, they’d brought along Tiger and Salmon, but Brienne demurred when Jaime asked about it, saying she wanted to run errands after. They’d stopped by her apartment for a few minutes so that Jaime could greet them both, hugging Tiger and letting Salmon sniff at his knuckles before flicking his tail approvingly and ambling away.

Jaime made a concentrated effort to not be so stilted, remarking on the weather and his relief that he didn’t have to go back to work until Monday. Brienne listened intently, humming periodically, but she made it so much easier when she said, “Do you think it’s going to be all right, for Arianne Martell?”

“I really don’t know,” Jaime mused. “She made some poor decisions, that’s for sure, and there’s no way anyone at their company will trust her again.”

“But you feel for her,” Brienne astutely observed.

Jaime gave her a quick glance and shrugged. “It’s hard to see history repeating itself, even if it’s in an entirely different family. Part of me” - he hesitated for a brief second but decided to speak truthfully - “part of me thinks that maybe we should take her in at LI. Under strict observation, of course, but she’s got a brilliant mind when she’s on the right track. She should get the chance to use it.”

Brienne bumped her shoulder against his. “You’ve got good instincts, I think. You should follow this one.”

He felt warm at her encouragement and nodded slightly. “Maybe I will.”

When they sat across from each other at an outdoor table, Jaime peeked at Brienne over the edge of his menu. She did look good, his bias aside, somehow glowing and content, more than he’d ever seen before. It was as if over the weeks and months they’d known each other that he’d been witnessing Brienne slowly unfolding, releasing, becoming something entirely new. 

He couldn’t know for certain, but Jaime suspected that the week he’d been gone had been good for her; it stung more than a little, but he couldn’t help but be glad for her. He’d hoped to rediscover the laughing woman he’d seen at Renly’s side; with time, he had, but now it seemed Brienne was something more than that. 

Gods, he loved her. 

Jerking his eyes back to the menu, Jaime tried for a lighthearted tone and asked, “What are you thinking of getting?”

Brienne let out a delightful groan and Jaime shifted in his seat at hearing it. “A burger, for sure. But instead of fries-”

“Not the peas, I beg you,” Jaime said, slapping down his menu to find Brienne giving him a playful grimace. “You’re still on mushy peas?”

“Who am I to deny the kid what he wants?” Brienne asked half-laughingly and gestured down at her stomach. “And the kid wants peas.”

“We will definitely have to work on his palate,” Jaime grumbled. 

“I remember the Jaime Lannister I first met had approximately two dozen different containers of take out in his fridge.” Her teasing tone made it impossible to keep a grin from forming on his face. “Look at you now.”

Jaime put on his loftiest voice. “You get to be a movie snob, I get to be a food snob if I so choose.”

“We don’t have to be snobs at all,” Brienne pointed out. 

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Jaime pretended to shake out his menu. “Mushy peas, _pfft_.”

Brienne chuckled, but returned to perusing the menu. Despite her search, she ordered exactly what she’d threatened when the waiter came around and Jaime let out a long-suffering sigh, playing into it, grateful they’d found a respite from all the things they were leaving unsaid. 

They discussed Arianne a little further, tossing around ideas of how she could maybe fit in at Jaime’s company. It turned into Jaime telling Brienne about the Martell property, and the sound of the ocean there and his first sighting of the whales. 

“I saw them, every once in a while, from Tarth,” Brienne said longingly. She put her burger down to look off in the distance. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, my old home.”

Jaime leaned his elbows on the table top and took a bite of the fries he’d insisted on ordering to prove a point. “Do you still visit it?”

“Haven’t been in a long time,” Brienne answered with a shake of her head. “I thought that it would be easier if I didn’t go back, but I think I did myself a disservice. I’m not sure if I’ll ever live there again, though it is an option. At the very least, maybe I’ll be able to put some things to rest if I let myself return.”

An uneasy shiver went down his spine as he picked up on her insinuation. “You’re thinking of moving.”

Brienne blinked rapidly and turned her face back to meet his eyes. “Not for a while, but yes.”

“Oh,” Jaime said quietly.

“It’s not my home, the apartment,” Brienne said, both searching and resolute at the same time. “It works for now and probably for a while from now, but I’ve been thinking that I need… I need to start making decisions for myself and how I want to raise him. If I stayed in the apartment, it would be mainly for Renly and Loras and I- I need to stop relying on what could have been and what there actually is.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Jaime said in a low voice, even though he wanted to, very much. “I trust your instincts, too.”

Brienne’s eyebrows twitched up. “Don’t give me too much credit, it took a long talk with Davos to even get me thinking about it.”

“Ah,” Jaime replied, for lack of anything better to say. He figured saying _fucking Davos_ wouldn’t make him look especially rational. “How’s that going?”

“Fairly well...” Brienne trailed off and then seemed to commit to what she said next: “It helps to put things into perspective, talking to someone who doesn’t have any stake in all of this. He’s just there to listen and sometimes point out things I don’t see. I always heard people say that once they started therapy, they realized everyone needs therapy and I can’t say they’re wrong.”

“You trying to tell me something, Brienne?” Jaime tried to say it jokingly, wiggling a fry around in the air to emphasize it, but it hit too close to what he’d already started to consider.

Brienne blanched and said, “No, no, I wasn’t trying to say you should-”

“Relax,” Jaime interrupted, feeling like an ass. He tossed the fry down and pushed back into the chair. “I know what you meant. I’ve been thinking about it. For myself.”

Brienne sat up straight. “Really.”

“Watching you - all of you - and with what happened, even though it’s been years-” Jaime tried to find the words to explain it, struggled to find a way to lace it with humor and gave up entirely. He tapped his fingers against the table, his nervous movement making their water glasses wobble on the uneven surface. “I don’t think I’ve dealt with it as well as I could have. Tyrion tried to fix it with a dog and that’s about the length any Lannister’s capable of helping another. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see someone.”

His tapping fingers went still, not by his own effort, but by Brienne reaching over and putting her warm hand on his. Jaime stared down at their overlapping hands as she said, “I’m glad you’re considering it. It’s not an easy thing, but I really have found it helpful.”

He wanted nothing more than to flip his hand over, to entangle their fingers together. Because of that, Jaime kept his palm frozen flat against the table. Forcing his eyes up, he smiled tightly and replied, “Perhaps the estimable Dr. Seaworth can help me, too, then.”

Brienne’s eyes went huge and she snatched her hand back, stuttering, “I- maybe one of his partners? He’s part of a larger group and I’m sure they must all be good if they work together.”

“Not willing to share your therapist, Brienne? I’m insulted.” He aimed for a joking tone but it fell flat as Brienne’s mouth worked soundlessly. Jaime pulled his suddenly cold hand to his lap and held it within the other. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“We _are_ friends,” Brienne insisted, her face coloring deeply. It should have been reassuring but it felt like a lead weight pinning him to where he sat. “We’re- I- I just think that it might be a-a kind of a conflict of interest.”

“A conflict of-” Jaime cut himself short as the realization left him even colder. “You talked about me with him.”

Brienne lifted one shoulder and muttered, “Well… yeah.”

Jaime ran his hand over his face and then held it to his mouth before bitterly letting out, “Because of what I said. I fucking drove you to therapy.”

“To be fair” - Brienne flinched for no reason he could see - “I was already there?”

Casting away his friends’ encouragement, even Brienne’s sincere welcome home at his front door, Jaime knew he had never felt so low. It was a deeper abyss than he could have ever imagined, especially in comparison to the sense of comfort he’d fooled himself into believing as they’d sat together. He couldn't even look Brienne in the eye as he said, “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” 

“Jaime-”

He half-wondered if this was a whole exercise that she’d cooked up with Seaworth, a trial to see if he’d meant it, that she didn’t need to feel the same way he did. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything, I know I made it harder, I’m sorry.” The words spilled out of Jaime’s mouth, too familiar and yet so different from what he’d told her that night. “You don’t need to force this, we can take some space, I told you I’d give you that and I meant it-”

“Godsdamnit, Jaime, will you _shut up_?”

He started and brought his gaze back to hers. 

“You…” Brienne let out a huff of air, clearly annoyed. “You need to slow down, okay?”

“That’s what I’m saying-”

“I mean stop getting ahead of me,” Brienne said sternly. But then she softened and leaned forward, her voice heartbreakingly kind as she told him, “I’m glad you said it.”

Jaime’s throat almost convulsed as he tried to swallow down a million different words at once. All he allowed himself was, “Which part?”

“That you love me,” Brienne said plainly. Her lovely blue eyes held him in place, but in the periphery he caught sight of her hand again reaching across the table and he automatically raised his hand up to meet her, seeking solace from the one person who had all the power to hurt him the most. As they came in contact, Brienne added, “Please don’t apologize for it.”

His breath caught in his chest as Brienne’s fingers played over his, making an exploration of it as her fingertips grazed over the back of his hand. Her fingers were as long as his and barely slimmer; Jaime could feel old calluses pressing against his knuckles right before Brienne did what he’d refused himself and twined their hands together.

Jaime looked back at her, astonished, as Brienne told him, “I’m not in a place where I can say the same thing, not right now. There’s too much- there’s still a lot going on. But I care about you, too and you- you make me so happy and I missed you _so much_.”

“I missed you, too,” Jaime replied quietly, still reeling.

“And I don’t mean this casually, I want to see where it goes. I want us to give this a real shot.” It was back, the determined air that he’d seen Brienne take on when they’d first met one another in his entryway. She looked more sure than ever and it made his heart fucking soar. “Is that all right?”

Jaime almost laughed, his relief was so great. “Yes, Brienne, that is absolutely all right.”

“Good.” She smiled from ear to ear, her still red cheeks going taut with the strength of it. 

They sat there for who knows how long, grinning dopily at each other, interrupted only when the waiter came up and asked if they needed anything.

He’d lost his appetite, but in the best possible way, and he exchanged a look with Brienne that led her to unnecessarily ask, “Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jaime answered warmly.

“Splitting the check?” The waiter was clearly used to their prior visits - Brienne had let him pay that first time but had insisted on paying her share ever since - and was already pulling out a pair of receipts when Brienne raised her free hand and objected, “No, together, I’ve got it.”

“What are you talking about, we always split,” Jaime reminded her.

“And I’m paying this time, I asked you to come,” Brienne retorted.

“If that was the case, I should have paid at least three-quarters of the time we-” Jaime stopped as he pieced together exactly how their afternoon had started and where it ended up. That thought combined with the squeeze of Brienne’s hand against his and what it meant made it all clunk into place within his brain. “Brienne… was this a date?”

Brienne gave him a confused glance as she passed her card to the waiter, who looked between them and made himself scarce. “Of course it’s a date, I asked you!”

“To lunch!” Jaime exclaimed.

“A lunch _date_!”

“You could have been a little clearer about it,” Jaime laughed out, almost giddy. “I was thinking this whole time that you were probably trying to find a way to let me down easy.”

Brienne shook her head at him, managing to express with a slightly agape smile that she was both fond and riled by him. He could hardly wait to see how often he’d make her do it. 

###### 

Jaime couldn’t let go of her hand. 

He literally couldn’t. Brienne kept his grasp firmly in hers as they made their way down the sidewalk, aiming for the mid-range store that she said Margaery had demanded she use to register for the baby shower. 

It wasn’t as if Jaime wanted to let go, but it was extremely gratifying that Brienne apparently didn’t want to either. 

They marched into the store together, sussing out where they could find the handheld scanners, and receiving instructions on how to proceed. Left to their own devices, he and Brienne went up and down the aisles that held all the baby-related paraphernalia. Jaime was completely baffled by all the options before them. 

“Who in the world would need this?” he asked Brienne, using the scanner to point out what looked like a large stuffed forearm and hand; the picture on the box showed a baby cuddled in between two of them, as if it was being held by an otherwise non corporeal, multicolored puppet. Its description said that it was supposed to mimic the comfort of a parent’s embrace and Jaime made a thoughtful noise, wondering aloud, “I can’t decide if Tywin would have thought it was too fatherly to use one of these. Probably so."

Brienne made an appalled face and they moved on. 

She was much more circumspect than he was, choosing items carefully and comparing them against one another. Jaime found a mobile with little lions on it and scanned it happily, only to discover another that had the sun, moon and stars and scanned that one as well. When Brienne protested, he gave her the logical reasoning of, “Maybe he’ll want a change of scenery every once in a while.”

“I will take that machine away from you,” Brienne replied with a glint in her eye.

Jaime raised it up high in the air, far away from where his other hand remained joined with hers. “I dare you.”

She looked incredibly tempted, but let it pass and moved only far enough to check the opposite side of the aisle. “They’ll probably think that I only want one or the other, so it’ll be fine.”

“If they buy one, I’ll buy the other,” Jaime said solemnly and Brienne couldn’t entirely hide her laughter.

“I know this is just… we’re just starting, but it’d be better if we discussed it,” Brienne murmured later as she perused an aisle full of car seats. She flicked her eyes at him and then back at the wall. “I’m due in less than ten weeks. Then I’ll have him, the kid.”

“Never going to be pregnant, but I understand that’s generally how it goes,” Jaime said absently. He set the scanner down and picked up a mirror that went on the back of a car headrest. “For selfies? Bit much, don’t you think?”

Brienne gave him a completely unimpressed look.

Jaime jammed the mirror back on its hook, not entirely concerned that it was crooked. “Brienne, I know what this is. I am well aware that you’ll have him soon and that it’s going to be a change-”

“A huge change,” Brienne piped in.

“A huge change,” Jaime agreed. “And I’m not asking to be his… his anything. He can call me Uncle Jaime for all I care. I just want to be a part of your lives, both of you.”

“You’re effectively going to date a single mom,” Brienne replied, looking uncharacteristically fretful, but he supposed it was entirely new territory for them both. “Part of me wonders if he’ll even call _me_ mom, or auntie or hey lady-”

“Pretty sure you’ll raise him to be more gentlemanly than _that.”_

“-which goes to show I still have so much to figure out,” Brienne insisted. “It’s a lot for you to take on.”

“Brienne.” Jaime stopped in place and maneuvered her to stand right before him. He even unclasped her hand from his so he could grasp each of her gloriously broad shoulders. “Last I checked, you were barely taking it on yourself.”

She opened her mouth, evidently considered it and then closed it again, her expression thoughtful. 

“If I didn’t want to be a part of this, I wouldn’t be here. It’s going to be difficult, probably, but if you’re willing to try, so am I.” It was an impulse he didn’t have to deny himself anymore, so Jaime allowed his hand to rise and brush her hair back, feeling a rush of joy when Brienne leaned into his palm, her eyes hopeful and mouth softening from where she’d been chewing on her lower lip. “I’m more than willing, to be honest. I _want_ this.”

He drew closer and Brienne’s eyes went round as he did. They were in the middle of an aisle full of pinks and blues and greens and car seats and blankets and noisy toys but it was all just _stuff_ , like everything else. Stuff that they could handle, together. Nothing substantial compared to the woman before him, her breath quickening as Jaime asked, “Can I kiss you? I’d really like to kiss you.”

“We’re in the middle of the store,” Brienne replied, almost breathlessly. “You want to kiss me here?”

“Here. Anywhere.” Jaime shrugged, smiling. “Everywhere.”

She hadn’t even fully nodded when his lips met hers. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, it just got so long, people. So. Long. So here is the first part of the last part, if that makes any sense. My love, as always, to Slips, Nire & Luthien. 
> 
> In case you missed it, Brienne had a companion piece to chapter 7 called Maybe I Know and you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074021).

“Put Margaery on speaker,” Jaime said urgently.

Brienne gave him a narrow look and then rolled her eyes, ignoring his request. 

“Speaker, please,” Jaime insisted. 

She silently said _quit it_ and kept listening to what the other woman was saying, likely waiting for the right moment to interject with the news.

He gave her a mock grimace, shook his head, and then immediately followed it by cupping his hands around his mouth and bellowing, “WE’RE TOGETHER.”

“ _Jaime!”_

“Margaery! Did you get tha-” He was stopped from asking any further when Brienne covered his mouth with her palm and declared, “You are impossible!”

Jaime pulled his face free and retorted, “You chose me, what does that say about you?”

Brienne pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand and offered him the phone with the other. Jaime brought it to his ear and asked, “Did you get that? We’re dating now.”

“Uh-huh,” Margaery said, sounding bored and extremely unimpressed. “Good to know that making one good decision doesn’t make you any less of an idiot. Put Brienne back on.”

Jaime did so, but put the phone on speaker before giving it back. After a second, Margaery asked, “You’re sure about this? He is still _very_ Lannister and there’s no fixing that.”

“I’m sure,” Brienne told her, just as Jaime, annoyed, piped in, “I can hear you.”

“I know,” Margaery replied. 

###### 

“We’re together,” Jaime announced proudly. 

Tyrion gave him a brief glance and returned to sorting through his emails. “Yes, it’s nice to see you back, took you long enough. What’s with this message you sent me about Arianne Martell?”

“No, Brienne and I, we’re together.” Irritated by Tyrion’s vague answering hum, Jaime tapped at the edge of the desk to get his full attention. “Thought you’d make a much bigger deal about this.”

“I don’t see why, you’ve been dating for weeks,” Tyrion replied, still aggravatingly blasé in Jaime’s opinion. “Why the display now?”

Jaime paused, perplexed. “No, we haven’t. It’s only been since Saturday.”

Tyrion blinked at his computer, turned to Jaime and blinked again. “Am I hearing this right?” he asked slowly, “That all this time - with the movies, the outings, your constant texting and my unending yet ultimately futile efforts to pull your head out of the clouds… and you weren’t even togetheruntil _two days ago_?”

“It’s a delicate situation,” Jaime countered, mildly abashed. “And we’re feeling it out, seeing where we’ll go from here.”

“Isn’t she on the brink of expelling a human being from her lady parts?” Tyrion asked, his brow arched high. 

“You are, as ever, gifted with words,” Jaime replied dryly. Tyrion only gave him a pleased, shitty grin in response. “Why didn’t you say anything, if you thought we were already dating? Seems like the kind of thing you’d needle me over. I can’t believe you’d let that opportunity pass you by.”

“Is that what you’re asking me to do now?” Tyrion cackled over Jaime’s hasty attempt to retract his observation. “I decided it’d be better not to jinx it. Your personal life is enough of a disaster without my interference. But now that you’ve so graciously opened yourself up to it, I’ll be sure to make my opinion known.”

“This was a mistake,” Jaime groaned. “I shouldn’t have told you for another six months, at least.”

“Without a doubt,” Tyrion acknowledged. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Jaime rose from his seat and took the envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on Tyrion’s desk. “I’ll probably regret this, too, but she’s invited you to the baby shower. You know, for the human she’ll be _expelling_ soon.”

“Baby… shower…” Tyrion picked up the invitation and gave it a dubious look. “I’ve been to many strange gatherings in my life, but I’ll have to admit that this is a first. Even Cersei spared me in the past.”

“Think about it. At the very least you’ll get to meet my girlfriend,” Jaime replied. 

Tyrion made a face, probably reacting to the smug way he said _girlfriend_ and for that reason Jaime decided to forgo the warning and only said, “It’s up to you, but check it out, see if you can make it.”

He was almost out of the office when he heard the tearing sound of an envelope being opened and then Tyrion’s enraged _JAIME!_ as a shower of confetti surely blanketed his desk.

“Just think,” Jaime called back over his shoulder, “if we communicated better, you could have avoided that!”

###### 

Ellaria’s shriek of joy left his ears ringing for at least ten minutes. That’s why he chose to text Oberyn instead.

_brienne and i are together now_

_**Yes, I believe I can hear my lovely wife screeching from here.** _

_aren’t you at work_

_**Her voice carries, as you well know.** _

###### 

“We’re together.” Jaime spoke downward and felt, more than heard, Brienne’s amused huff brush by his ear.

There was an answering thump under his palm. At their feet, Tiger yipped and Salmon meowed.

Best reaction yet.

###### 

Jaime made a concentrated effort to give Brienne time to adjust, no matter how ready he felt to race ahead. They’d gotten a bit carried away in the store, holding onto one another even after Jaime had finally stopped kissing her, its hungry beginning having mellowed into the soft press of lips and shared air. He could have stood there for hours - his arms looped around her back, hers around his shoulders, their heads tilted together - if it weren’t for the sales clerk that approached, coughing significantly. 

“May I help you?” The poor girl had been nearly as red as Brienne.

“No,” Jaime had answered, grinning foolishly and keeping Brienne firmly in his grasp, “we’re good.” 

It _was_ good. Every morning he got to see Brienne, his girlfriend, again. They shared breakfast before he gave her a probably-too-long kiss goodbye, sent her messages throughout the day and then they met up in the late afternoons, once again sharing a meal and tending to their pets. They went their separate ways in the evening, usually after Jaime helped her clear out some of the master bedroom or, when she needed something less taxing, they watched a movie together. Though, more often that not, the movie-watching morphed into them necking like a couple of teenagers. 

There was a growing risk that he’d get turned on any time he witnessed Brienne reaching for a remote in the foreseeable future. Seeing as just the memory of her mouth on his skin was enough to elicit such a response, Jaime figured it wasn’t worth worrying too much about it. 

The pattern itself was little different from the last couple of weeks before Jaime had left for Dorne, aside from the kissing. But the way he _felt_. His mind had been freed of doubts and second guessing, wondering if he’d ever have a chance to be with her. He did. They were together. 

Jaime went to bed every night certain that he’d never been so happy in the entirety of his godsdamn life. And each day was better than the last. 

Nevertheless, he stuck to the decision he had made in Dorne, no matter how much he wanted to believe, now that Brienne was by his side, that he’d turned a corner in his life. Brienne went to see Dr. Seaworth again and brought back with her a card for his partner, a Dr. Elder, and Jaime forced himself to take it, even as he inwardly shied away. 

“It’s all right if you don’t want to go yet,” Brienne said, soothing and ungrudging. “It’s not easy, I won’t lie and say it is.”

Jaime smiled faintly and tipped his head towards her ever growing mid-section. “Gotta set a good example, don’t I?”

Brienne stepped closer to run her thumbs over his cheeks and then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m behind you, no matter what you decide to do,” she promised him. 

It was with that thought in mind that Jaime arranged to have his appointment in a similar time frame with Brienne’s next one; he’d go in a half hour before she did, but it was close enough that it made sense for them to go to Flea Bottom together. Brienne gave him an encouraging look when he made his first dubious examination of the neighborhood, but Jaime was won over the moment they stepped into the bakery on the first floor of the building. 

“I wonder how they do this,” Jaime remarked as he pulled apart the scone he’d ordered. It had a crisp, buttery exterior, but the texture inside was light and fluffy, with scattered crevices that soaked up the raspberry jam he lathered on. “Do you think I-”

“You’re going to start baking now, aren’t you?” Brienne asked in a deadpan voice. He knew it for the farce it was, because when he looked back at her, she was smiling. If he’d known it was the last moment of levity in that day, Jaime would have made sure to appreciate it even more.

Brienne found him there after her own session was over, sitting in the bakery with a cup of fully cooled coffee before him. The thirty minutes he’d sat there seemed to have passed in a blur and he looked up to find her there and vaguely realized that he’d meant to order her some tea before she’d finished with her appointment. 

He looked up at her, his mouth working soundlessly, unsure of where to start, unsure if he even wanted to. Brienne gave him a long look in response, and then reached out her hand. She didn’t have to say a word - Jaime took it and they left. In his car, on the way back to their building, Jaime finally said, “I don’t think we should do that again.”

“Which part?” Brienne asked in measured tones.

“Going together,” Jaime replied brusquely. He hoped she knew that it wasn’t directed at her, but it was hard to put it into words. “I think it’s something…”

“You need to do on your own?”

“Yeah,” Jaime agreed. 

She took his hand again, squeezed it as if to say _I understand,_ and Jaime loved her all the more for it. Even so, he had to go home earlier that night, alone, and make a new batch of dough so he could beat the shit out of _something_ , anything to keep from calling his sister and yelling at her until he lost his voice.

###### 

He brought up the text chain a few days later, the one that held the scant messages that he and Cersei sent back and forth. It’d been months since they’d last seen one another, he was startled to realize, and almost as long since they’d spoken. It made unfortunate sense as Jaime scrutinized it, that the last time he’d voluntarily reached out to her was before he’d told Brienne the whole sorry story. He didn’t need Dr. Elder’s deliberate reflections to figure out why he hadn’t. 

Worse, the last message was from Cersei, asking _You aren’t still upset about Joffrey not taking out your dog for long enough, are you?_ What a thing to have left on read. 

Jaime took a steadying breath and, while it took him the better part of an hour to find the words, sent to her: _No, that wasn’t it. I hope the kids are all right, I’m sorry that I haven’t spoken to them and I’ll make sure to call them soon. I didn’t mean to let them down. Tyrion might have told you, but I met someone. Her name is Brienne and she means a great deal to me. It’s a long story, but she’ll be having a baby soon. It’s not mine, but I’m going to be involved. Like I said, long story._

It took hours, but at last Cersei sent back _I’d like to hear it._

###### 

They may have chosen to go to their counseling on different days, but it would have taken wildfire to keep Jaime from joining Brienne at her obstetrician’s office. He and Margaery resorted to enacting rock-paper-scissors over it and the parenting classes; Brienne had to step in when they got snappish at one another after winning one apiece. She didn’t even let them try to get best out of three, despite Jaime’s protests.

Abandoned in the waiting room together once again, Jaime recalled Brienne’s scowl before she was led away, and grudgingly said, “I think Brienne’s mad at us.”

“She’s mad at you,” Margaery said airly. She’d brought another magazine and was flipping through it, but not slowly enough that Jaime believed that she was absorbing anything. “I did nothing wrong.”

“You tried to knock me into a chair so you could go in with her.”

Margaery tossed back her hair and lifted her chin in defiance. “It was my turn.”

“Like hells it was, you went in last time.” At this rate, he’d never seen the damned exam room. “We shouldn’t have even been arguing over it, it was my turn.”

“You went to the last class with her. I missed out on the lamaze practice,” Margaery said tartly.

“It’s breathing! What in the hells is there to practice?” Jaime asked for the thousandth time.

“And that’s exactly why I should be going to those instead!” Margaery glared at him. He gamely glared back. “If you can’t appreciate the finer points of it, you shouldn’t be the one attending.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. _Exactly_.”

They lapsed into a strained silence and Margaery picked up the magazine again, her elbow poking at him every time she flicked a page. He waited for her to speak up again, to say something biting or clever, but the longer Margaery didn’t say anything, the more it dawned on him that she was actually upset.

“What is going on with you?” Jaime asked, thrown when Margaery frowned more heavily in response. “Seriously, I thought we were joking around.”

“Yeah, really funny,” Margaery said under her breath. 

She added something else, but Jaime couldn’t catch it and, no matter how much he tried to provoke her, Margaery refused to say anything more. It was childish, certainly, but he resorted to tugging the magazine out her grip, the both of them grappling over it for a few seconds, even tearing a few pages, before it was out of Margaery’s hands. 

“Talk,” Jaime ordered and held it up in the air, as if preparing to rip it in half, “or the magazine gets it.”

Margaery’s caustic mutter of _fucking man-child_ was definitely audible and her aggrieved sigh even more so. But Jaime had to listen hard to catch what she said next. “A lot has changed lately.”

“Okay,” Jaime said slowly. 

“You finished the registry. Without me. Then the apartment. Now you’re here, too.” Margaery refused to meet his eyes. “It’s like… like you’re edging me out.”

He dropped the magazine to his lap, the paper crumpling under his fingers. 

“I knew it was going to be different, but damn it, you’re the one who got after me to be there for her and now it feels like you’d rather do everything.” Margaery picked at her cuticles, a nervous tic he’d never seen her showcase in the past; Jaime never would have figured her for having one at all. “Can you blame me for trying to stay involved?” 

Jaime blew out a half-annoyed breath. “No, but maybe I think you can refrain from bodily harm. You jammed me into the seatback pretty hard.”

“So says the man who was threatening destruction of property just a minute ago.”

“It’s a magazine.”

“It’s _mine._ ”

“So, what, this needs to be only yours too?” Jaime asked bitingly. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? For her?”

“Can you remember that this is all I have left?” Margaery snapped back. She set her jaw, looking regretful that she’d said as much. 

Jaime slouched back, making a concentrated effort to squash down the part of him that wanted to deny it outright, to tell her to stop being petulant over not getting her way. He couldn’t pretend that what she said wasn’t true, he and Brienne _had_ done those things and he hadn’t thought of Margaery once. 

“Look,” he began and then paused again, running over it in his head. “Brienne and I, that’s… it wasn’t intentional. It’s just that this is new and we’re kind of-”

“Obsessed with each other,” she finished, sounding tired.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

Margaery’s voice dropped low and hurt. “That’s nice for you, but where does that leave me?” 

He’d never heard her sound so unsure. Angry and irritated, yes. Grief-stricken, absolutely. This was something new, however. Margaery was looking at him as if he’d wounded her - he was astonished that he’d had the power for it, never mind what he’d already unknowingly inflicted - and he couldn’t pretend that it was manufactured as a ploy. They were long past putting on pretences for one another, yet another thing he hadn’t noticed until now. 

“It wasn’t-” Jaime grimaced. He didn’t want to apologize for it, for being happiest he’d ever been in his godsdamn life. Still, he had to admit that somewhere along the way Margaery had become a comrade-in-arms, someone who wanted the best for Brienne as much as he did. The gods were likely having a laugh over it, at the implausible reality of a Lannister and Tyrell bonding for the sake of someone else, something so far from what was known of both of them. But when it came to Brienne, they were both so much more than what they used to be. 

Because of that, Jaime relented. “You’re right, we need to be better about including you.”

Margaery’s eyebrows flew up, disbelief written clear on her face. 

“We will,” Jaime said firmly. “Come on, let’s look at our schedules. We’ll figure this out so we can split it evenly.”

Margaery gave him an uncertain look, but brought out her phone. For the next several minutes, they mapped out the time remaining until the kid joined them, splitting the classes and appointments as best they could. Throughout it, Margaery kept pausing and looking at him as if she were stymied by his attempts to placate her. When Jaime stopped putting in the last of his notes, he looked up at her and faltered. “What?”

“You just… tend to surprise me, Jaime Lannister.” She gave him a small, sincere smile. It was a nice one, far better than the calculated, sharp grins that she typically bestowed on the world at large. 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Margaery Tyrell,” Jaime said in return. 

###### 

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Jaime complained. He held the item in question out toward the camera for Ellaria to evaluate and then thunked it on the kitchen counter, where it made a sharp rapping noise and then broke apart in his hand. So much for a fluffy interior. “I followed the recipe, set the dough to rest, and baked it for exactly as long as it said.”

“Did you though?” Ellaria squinted suspiciously. 

“Yeah, I mean…” Jaime pulled the bread recipe book over, his latest purchase that had joined the growing tower set in the corner next to the refrigerator. He was nearing the point of having to buy a shelf to hold the lot of them, but he could hardly be blamed for it, there were just _so many_. Breakfast, dinner, vegetables, desserts and bread - who knew there were so many types of _bread_? He tossed the failed scone in the trash and brushed off his hands. “Okay, so I might have skipped one of these.”

“Let me guess, the baking powder?” Ellaria asked dryly.

Jaime frowned and Ellaria smirked. 

“It’s less than twenty grams, what difference was that supposed to make?” Jaime ran his finger down the list again. Considering the large heap of flour that was called for, the baking powder had seemed irrelevant. 

“All the difference, apparently, unless you _wanted_ to make a discus that could knock a man out when thrown from a dozen paces?”

She laughed at his glower and Jaime slapped the recipe book shut. “I don’t know why I went to you over this, you are the least sympathetic person I’ve ever known.”

“Lies,” Ellaria replied easily

He was about to argue his rebuttal - regardless of the times she’d shown her caring heart, he could easily dismiss that in his effort to prove Ellaria wrong - when a firm knock came at his front door, quickly followed by Brienne coming inside. Pleased at the sight of her, Jaime called out, “Hey, you’re back already?”

“Margaery had plans to meet with her manager for drinks, so we made it an early dinner,” Brienne told him as she came into the kitchen. She looked happy to see him, but brightened even further when she saw past him. “Hi, Ellaria!”

Jaime felt his smile drop and he turned quickly to see Ellaria wave back and say, “Brienne! How did the appointment go?”

“Wait, what-” Jaime gawked.

Brienne groaned and set her bag down. “They said he’s breech, but we’ve got plenty of time. I’m going to have to start doing some exercises to encourage him to move, though.”

“I’ll send you a couple links, I had the same problem with Obella. That child was obstinate from the womb and it went until the very last days, but we got her sorted,” Ellaria promised.

Brienne replied her thanks, but Jaime was still completely bewildered. “What the hells…?”

Ellaria sounded highly amused as she asked, “Did you not tell him that we’ve kept in touch?”

“Was I supposed to?” Brienne sent a confused look at them both, but her mouth twitched when Jaime sputtered his surprise. 

“No, I’m enjoying this. Well done, Brienne.” He looked over to see Ellaria prop her chin on her fist. “Look at him, it’s like his life is flashing before his eyes.”

It _was_ , Jaime realized. He hadn’t considered the ramifications of the phone call that the two women had shared; he had let himself be lulled into a sense of false comfort that Ellaria would have been satisfied with one conversation. The foolishness of it nearly knocked him back a step as he wondered about the many, _many_ things Ellaria could share with Brienne, none of which she would have any compunction in detailing. 

“She didn’t say anything bad,” Brienne told him. Somewhere in the background, he heard Ellaria sing-songing, “ _But I could._ ”

“Bye, Ellaria,” Jaime said forcefully.

“You can cut me off now, but I still have her number,” Ellaria replied as he reached for the power button.

“And I’ll have her change it immediately,” Jaime vowed, closing the call just as Ellaria started to speak again.

There was a soft _beep_ and Brienne looked at her phone, laughed and then showed it to him. The message was from Ellaria, of course, and it said _He’ll pay for that. Dearly._

“You should be scared,” Brienne advised him. “I don’t know her well, but I know that much.”

Jaime pulled her close so that they could share a warm kiss. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

Brienne shook her head, her eyes bright with affection, and kissed him again.

It was a while later, after Brienne complained of a cramp in her leg from standing too long, that they separated and Jaime tossed out the remaining brick-like scones that were still on the sheet tray. At Brienne’s questioning look, he only said, “Please don’t ask.” Brienne raised both her hands and walked away, chuckling under her breath. 

She laid out on her side on the couch and Jaime made his own dinner while she napped, taking time to feed Salmon and Tiger while he was at it. They each had their own bowls at both apartments, having easily taken to wandering back and forth between both places much like Jaime and Brienne had; Jaime supposed - or more hoped - that eventually they’d choose one place and stick with it, but that was entirely up to Brienne and she didn’t appear to be in a rush.

He took Tiger for a walk, leaving Salmon to climb onto Brienne’s hip to join her in a light doze and came back to find them both waking. Brienne stretched her arms wide as she yawned, the long span from hand to hand enrapturing him and she grinned, a little shyly, when she saw the look on his face. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry,” she told him.

“That’s okay,” Jaime assured her. “I like that you’re comfortable here. I like that you’re… here.”

Brienne ducked her head, but not enough that he didn’t see the flush on her cheeks. 

“As for Ellaria-”

“She’s nice,” Brienne protested, her head popping up as she defended the other woman. Jaime only shook his head. He leaned in and kissed her again, still thrilled that he could do it so easily, whenever he wanted. She kept going, mumbling against his lips, “She’s been helpful.”

“I bet.”

“She has.” Brienne tugged him down so that he sat next to her and she leaned into him, her head nestled under his chin. Jaime wrapped his arm around her in return. “Besides, you can pretend not to like it, but you wouldn’t be talking to her if she wasn’t a good friend to you, too.”

“Damn it” - Jaime shook one fist in the air - “you’ve seen through me. How will my reputation recover from such a blow?”

Brienne laughed into his chest. “It’s the same as with Margaery. The two of you were snarling when I left you alone and then I found you both playing that spider-man game when I came back. What in the world happened while I was with the doctor?”

“Not much,” Jaime said lightly. If Margaery hadn’t expressed her discontent to Brienne, he wasn’t going to do it. 

“Mm-hmm,” Brienne murmured, obviously not buying it. 

They sat quietly for several minutes, Jaime basking in the peaceful moments he had with her. Soon, he was certain, things would get far busier than he could imagine, the kid was still on his way, but at least they would have this in the meanwhile. He ran his fingers through Brienne’s hair and she made a needy noise in response, one that left his pulse thrumming. 

It was dashed moments later when she mused, “I’m going to ask Margaery if she’d like to live in the apartment with me.”

Jaime blinked rapidly, puzzled by the odd turn. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I… The master bedroom is empty now and I’m not planning on staying there forever, but I don’t want to sell it, either. It was still Renly and Loras’ home and it feels right, having one of us keeping it for them. Plus, we wouldn’t have to cross the city every time she wanted to spend time with the baby.” Brienne nuzzled further into his chest. “It’d make things a lot easier, at least in the beginning. She’s been saying that she wants to help out and that would be the greatest help, if she was living there, too.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Jaime replied. He kissed the crown of her head and laughed silently at himself; he should have known that Brienne wouldn’t need to be told. “Margaery’s going to jump at the chance, I’m sure of it.”

“You aren’t bothered by it?” 

The hesitation in her voice made Jaime move back until they could look at one another in the eye. He almost feigned his incomprehension, but Brienne’s eyes were wide and imploring and he knew it would be a useless effort. “No, I’m not,” Jaime said truthfully. “I’d rather you live with Margaery and have an easier time of it than try to rush things between us because you feel you have to do it before he gets here.”

“See, you say things like that and it makes me want to-” Brienne cut herself off with a groan and moved away from him only to change positions and get close again. She kneeled next to him and kissed him firmly, her hands at his jaw and her fingers curling into the sensitive skin behind his ears. “That, it makes me want to do that.”

“I don’t mind one damn bit.” Jaime tugged at her to come closer. Brienne smiled and eased slightly away to ask, “Want to put on a movie?”

“I think we could just cut out the middleman and get straight to making out,” Jaime suggested. 

Brienne pretended to think about it, then chuckled and said, “I suppose you’re right.”

Jaime pulled her back in, his pulse thrumming again as Brienne leaned into him, her fingers sliding through his hair and her mouth opening under his. They kept kissing even as they maneuvered around on the couch, trying to find a position where Brienne was comfortable. As much as Jaime wanted to press his chest to hers, to lay her back so he could finally see her spread out under him, it was made impossible by the swell of her abdomen. Usually, they remained side by side, but Brienne seemed to want to get even closer, pushing him back to meld into the couch cushion and Jaime moaned into her mouth when she scraped her teeth across his bottom lip. 

He took a chance, tugging at the hem of her shirt until he could snake his hand up inside; Brienne’s breath caught as he delved under her bra, but she let out a satisfied groan. 

It got more heated, the more they kissed and their tongues slid together; Jaime was encouraged by the way Brienne ran her hands up and down his chest, clasping her palms at his jaw and throat and then over his shoulders and down his back, leaving a buzzing sensation in her wake. He kept one hand up her shirt, but once he felt the small rocking motion of her hips over his thigh, his other hand went to her leg, to automatically guide her along, the back and forth motion transfixing him entirely. At his wordless urging, Brienne ground down and the gasp that came out of his throat was quickly echoed by hers. 

Brienne whimpered into his mouth as her movements sped up and her hip jolted under his hand. The friction and heat where she pulsed in contra to his leg was almost unbearable, but it would have taken an act of the gods for Jaime to allow any space between them. Instead he muttered into her mouth, encouraging her with eager moans and softer entreaties; he stroked with his thumb in time with her movement and soon Brienne let out a nearly silent keen, her whole body jerking and then going still as she ended with a choked sound, their kiss broken when she drew her head back to release a stuttered exhale. 

She dropped forward to rest her forehead in the curve of his neck and Jaime let out his own harsh breath, refusing his own body’s rampant need until Brienne found her wits. As easy as it would be to shift slightly downward, to feel the press of her knee where he was hard and aching - and knowing it wouldn’t take much more than that - Jaime held still for several moments, his breaths evening out in time with hers. 

“I, um,” Brienne started and stopped, then shook her head on his shoulder. “Wow, that… sorry, that was…”

“Whoa, don’t do that,” Jaime said into her ear and she shivered. “That was… yeah, that’s nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed that _immensely_.”

Brienne reared back only to put her hand over her eyes and forehead. “I basically just used you to get off.”

“And I enjoyed it,” Jaime repeated wholeheartedly. 

She split her fingers to take him in and Jaime couldn’t say what she saw, exactly, but her eyes squinted with wry amusement. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

Jaime moved both his hands up her shirt, his nails dragging along her sides. “Want to do it again?”

Brienne made another choked sound, sounding both exactly the same and completely different from before. She dropped her hands and shrank slightly, almost as if she felt she should say no, but she didn’t move away from him; in truth, she looked down between them and dragged her eyes back up to meet his gaze, her pupils going large. Jaime lifted his leg slightly so that they pressed together once more and she quaked in response. “Brienne,” Jaime said quietly, the words nearly lost in how low his voice had gone, “do you want to do it again?”

She bit her lip and Jaime almost lost his godsdamned mind, especially when she breathed out, “Yes.”

So they did it again. 

Any other man would likely have been horrified about how quickly it took for Brienne to work him over - it was hardly any work at all, only a few smooth pulls and then he fell apart under her hand - but Jaime considered it a feat that he’d lasted as long as he had, especially as she peaked twice more before she reached her hand inside his jeans to return the favor. 

They laid out after, facing one another on the couch, Brienne tucked safely inside and Jaime ran his hand up and down her spine. They whispered quietly together, laughing softly and kissing without fervor for once. Brienne’s eyelids had gone heavy, but she was awake enough to murmur, “It’s never been like that before.”

“For me either,” Jaime said back just as faintly. “Not like that.”

“No?”

“No,” he replied honestly.

“Wow,” Brienne whispered.

Jaime smoothed her hair back and smiled with her. “Yeah.”

He thought she’d fallen asleep, her eyes were still closed even, when Brienne asked, “Is that enough for you or- or do you want to have sex, too?”

Jaime paused and inwardly chastised himself to calm down. He waited until he could speak levelly to say, “I’d say that was sex, Brienne.”

Brienne peeped one eye open, imbuing so much skepticism in that one action that it made him laugh even louder. “You know what I mean,” she said flatly, though the strain in her voice betrayed her amusement.

“I’d like to.” Jaime didn’t see the point in lying, not when she had so much evidence to the contrary. “But this was good and it doesn’t need to be more just yet. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

“I know,” Brienne said simply. She was quiet again for a long while, but Jaime didn’t assume that she’d dozed off. Her face was too furrowed, as if she was carrying out an argument in her own mind, weighing one decision versus another, until she finally came to a conclusion and shared it with him. “I do. I do want that.”

If he hadn’t still been recovering, Jaime likely wouldn’t have found the sense to only say, “I do, too,” without immediately following it by divesting them both of their clothes.

“I just don’t know how, or at least where to start,” Brienne continued, her expression gone wary. “My body is so different now and it’s not as if I had the most… confidence before.”

“Does it help to know that I wanted you back then, too?” Jaime asked. He wiggled in, mostly in with his chest and then by placing one leg between hers, anything to bring her closer. “That hasn’t changed. Or at least, it hasn’t faded. It’s gotten exponentially worse, if I’m really being honest.”

“Is that so?” Brienne asked, her mouth tilting up on one side. “It’s not a pregnancy fetish, is it?”

“If it’s any kind of fetish, it’s a Brienne Tarth fetish,” Jaime said with mock gravitas. It worked and made her smile bashfully and bury her head into the throw pillow they shared. “Might be a lifelong affliction, sorry to say.”

“I’ll try my best to bear it,” Brienne said back with just as much faux seriousness. They grinned at each other and Brienne sighed, a large breath of air that felt like - looked like - trust made visible. “So… yes?”

“Yes,” Jaime replied evenly. It probably wouldn’t be his best look to scream it and drag her to his bedroom, but Brienne gave him a wide smile as if she saw it in his expression anyway. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Not tonight? I need to, ugh, this is so embarrassing, but I probably need to check with my doctor,” Brienne explained. “And, you know, think about the _logistics_ of all of it.”

Jaime tipped his head from side to side, but figured that if she was willing to ask some questions that made her squirm, it was only fair that he did, as well. “If it helps any, there is someone I could ask that has plenty of experience in this particular area.”

Brienne gave him a suspicious glance, but asked anyway: “Who?”

###### 

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**__** _GOOD GODS OBERYN I GOT THE IDEA_

_HOW DID YOU DO THAT SO FAST_

_**You can’t possibly believe that I haven’t made a folder full of such esquisses for this exact situation.** _

_I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS_

_**Ellaria and I considered sharing our personal collection, but we thought it might be better to ease Brienne into becoming more acquainted with us before we traded erotica.** _

_WHY ARE WE FRIENDS_

_**I see no reason to explain it. You know why.** _

“He is the fucking worst,” Jaime muttered.

###### 

“Could you… not do that?”

Jaime stopped his thorough investigation of the drawing on his phone and, glancing back at Brienne, explained, “I just want to make sure I’ve got it right.”

“I think you bypassed ‘right’ and went straight to overboard, as usual,” Brienne lamented and then groaned. She tried sitting up, struggling around the pile of pillows that he’d gathered, both from his apartment and hers. She looked a bit like she was drowning in all of them, he had to admit. Jaime gave her a hand until she was upright and when he looked back at his phone, she collapsed back. “At least put the phone down, I know you’re not doing anything, but it _looks_ like you’re taking a photo of me-”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Jaime immediately tossed away the phone and it skidded across the sheets, the momentum from his throw causing it to fall over the edge and down to the carpet below. “That isn’t what I was doing, I swear.”

“I know,” Brienne said with a low laugh. “It just looked weird. This whole thing is… weird.”

Jaime deflated. “Too weird?”

“Not enough to stop,” Brienne reassured him. “But maybe we should stop overthinking this. And that’s coming from _me._ ”

“I just want to get it right,” Jaime mumbled. It’d been going fairly well up until then. They’d started off with some unhurried kissing, taking their time as they undressed one another, even laughing when Jaime’s hands got stuck in the sleeves of his shirt and then when Brienne had to run to the bathroom midway through. But once more skin was revealed and they’d struggled to orient themselves, Brienne had gotten quieter and Jaime more fearful that he would do something that would make her uncomfortable. He had to ask again: “You still want to do this?”

“ _Yes_ , Jaime,” Brienne returned with even more emphasis than before. Her face grew redder and he watched as the flush went down her throat and crept into her chest and the _want_ in him that had been temporarily suspended as he arranged everything came back to him full force. 

He moved forward, careful not to rest his weight on her, to kiss her thoroughly and say, “Needed to make sure.”

Brienne drew up her hands to hold his face and keep him close; her expression went fierce from one moment to the next. “Believe me, ever since we decided to do this, it’s been... _building_ and I swear to the gods, Jaime Lannister, if you don’t get inside me soon, I will not be held accountable for what I do.”

Jaime huffed out a laugh, but it disappeared when he saw Brienne’s eyes narrow. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“As the stranger, yes,” Brienne replied. 

“Well, then I guess we should get to it,” he said faintly.

“Yes, _please._ ”

They got to it. 

Half the pillows ended up gods knew where, but Brienne remained on her side after, breathing deeply as Jaime ran his hands over her in wonder. It was hardly the time to mention it, but Oberyn hadn’t been wrong in his assessment of _numerous_ and _phenomenal._ He’d like to think that his skill could take some credit, but it’d hardly taken effort at times before Brienne went off, her soft cries echoing in his ears and making it almost impossible not to follow her over the edge.

Jaime smiled to himself, content in the knowledge that once he was ready to go again, Brienne probably would be, too. In the meanwhile, he kept luxuriating over the chance to touch and hold her, to become further familiar with her skin under his palms. Brienne wasn’t asleep, though her eyes were heavily lidded, and she hummed contentedly when he skimmed his fingers over her hair, down her arms and over her hips. 

He wanted to examine her legs in detail, from her strong thighs to her muscled calves but as he made his way down, Jaime felt her tense up and he lifted his hands away just as she jerked her feet back. “Ticklish?”

“No.” Brienne frowned as she tried to tug the blanket out from where it was bunched underneath him and Jaime moved around so she could pull it free. “It’s only-”

She stopped speaking and Jaime tried not to let his mind get too far ahead of him, to follow the vicious snark of a thought that said she was already regretting what they’d done. He fought to keep his voice even when he asked, “Do you need anything?”

Brienne pulled up her hands to grind the heels into her eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jaime. It’s only, well, damn it, it- it’s my feet.”

“Your feet?” Confused, Jaime tried to look at them, only for Brienne to push them both under the covers before he could. 

She sighed roughly and flopped her arms back to bracket her head, making a picture that he was more than ready to study in depth. Shaking free from his lustful thoughts, Jaime put his hands on both her knees and asked, “What do you mean?”

“They’re swollen,” Brienne admitted, speaking in the direction of the ceiling. “They have been, on and off, and I can feel it now and I didn’t want you to see.”

“Brienne,” - Jaime tried not to scoff and Brienne’s glare told him he hadn’t entirely contained it - “I don’t care.”

“They’re massive,” Brienne warned him.

“I don’t care,” Jaime repeated. 

Brienne stared at him. He stared back. When she rolled her eyes, he threw his hands in the air and declared, “Brienne, there is _nothing_ I don’t like about you, I literally cannot keep my hands off you, in case you haven’t noticed. Just show me and get it over with, or are you going to walk around all wrapped up from now on?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Brienne finally relented. As she drew her lower legs out from under the blanket, Jaime replied, “I swear, Brienne, it’s not that big a deal, oh shit, you weren’t kidding, that’s-”

It was the wrong thing to say, Jaime knew it even before Brienne planted the sole of her foot on his chest and propelled him off the end of the bed. The resulting rug burn on his left ass cheek, he had to admit, was wholly deserved. 

###### 

Though Margaery had originally suggested throwing the baby shower on the roof of the building, an ill-timed storm had them all racing to reorganize and decorate the apartment instead. Jaime did most of the heavy lifting, relocating the boxes that Margaery had left in the sitting area into her new bedroom, while she and Sansa started hanging decorations that hadn’t been ruined by the rain and arranging food platters on the kitchen counters. 

Brienne, though she protested, was instructed to remain sitting with her feet elevated. Whenever Jaime passed close enough, he grazed his fingers over her ankles where her dress had ridden up to reveal them and smirked when Brienne playfully glared at him. He leaned in to kiss her once or twice, partly out of a never-ending apology and partly to hear Margaery groan for him to get a hold of himself. 

It was for the best that Margaery couldn’t read his thoughts. From the moment he’d seen Brienne in the long blue dress - it made eyes look a deeper blue and her skin glow in a way he’d only seen in private - Jaime had been entertaining a fantasy of turning her around to ruck it up from the back and make good use of its easy access. Inventive though Oberyn’s recommendations were, Jaime and Brienne had found that simple position was their current favorite; it took little time to get from one point to another and these days when Brienne was ready, she was _ready._

He caught Brienne’s significant look and grinned, well aware he wasn’t the only one thinking it. That in mind, he lifted the remaining boxes with more vigor, hoping not to make a spectacle of himself. 

Distraction came in the form of the doorbell ringing, a good hour before they were expecting the first guests. Sansa fretted over it, bemoaning that the apartment wasn’t nearly ready, but Jaime waved her off and answered the door himself, more than a little surprised to find Tyrion standing on the other side.

“You’re early,” Jaime said plainly.

“From the offset I’d call that a C-minus for hosting skills, just so you know,” Tyrion replied. He lifted a neatly wrapped gift box and shook it in Jaime’s direction until he took it off his younger brother’s hands. “Seeing as I had yet to meet the woman who’s completely enchanted you, I thought it fitting to come a little sooner and introduce myself.”

“We’re still getting everything ready,” Jaime warned him.

“Whatever will I do with my excessive hopes and expectations?” Tyrion asked with patently false concern. “I fear I will never allow myself to enjoy a baby shower ever again if this one isn’t absolutely perfect.”

Jaime gave him a flat look. “I will dropkick you, just wait and see.”

Tyrion didn’t deign him with a response, instead edging around Jaime to greet Margaery and give Sansa a fleeting smile. Margaery looked between them all and said, “Well, as long as you have a chaperone, perhaps now Sansa and I can go get some replacement decorations.”

“We don’t need a chaperone,” Jaime argued back. “We’re not that bad.”

“I live here now, Jaime,” Margaery said dryly, “and I’m aware enough to know that yes, you are that bad. _Too aware._ ”

Jaime made a face at her and both of the women headed out the door as Tyrion planted himself firmly in front of Brienne and said, “So. You’re Brienne.”

She flicked her eyes to Jaime and then back to Tyrion. “Yes, I am. Tyrion, I presume?”

“Got it in one.” Tyrion gave her a deeply speculative once-over, one that made Jaime’s hands twitch, as if his body was already prepared to dangle Tyrion from a window if he dared say anything disparaging. He truly, deeply regretted ever referring to Brienne as a giantess; no matter how flattering he’d meant it, it would sound entirely different coming out of Tyrion’s mouth. He almost took a step forward when Tyrion leaned in and said, “Tell me, just how murderous does my brother look right now?”

Brienne bit her lip and gave Jaime another quick glance. “I’d say he’d stop just short of actual bloodletting, so you’re safe for now.”

“Can still do a great deal of damage without any actual lacerations,” Tyrion disagreed. “Bones can be broken, vital organs bruised. The options with poisons alone, well.”

“I’m concerned that you say that with a great deal of confidence,” Brienne replied. 

“I sound confident no matter the situation, even when I’m entirely out of my depth,” Tyrion countered. He moved back to sit on the coffee table, resting his hands on his knees and giving Brienne a wide smile. “It unnerves and reveals the weak, which makes it so much easier to weed them out of my everyday association.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do now?”

“Gods, no, I’m trying to impress you,” Tyrion remarked. 

Brienne tilted her head to one side. “Why? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“I’d say you’ve done more than enough to impress me, Brienne. Anyone who can make my brother as happy as you have is more than satisfactory in my books.”

She turned pink at hearing it and Jaime took the seat beside her, feeling much more forgiving of his brother. Taking her hand to kiss her knuckles, Jaime said, “He’s not wrong.”

“Gods, I should have known you’d be absolutely saccharine,” Tyrion drawled, but when Jaime looked over, he seemed pleased. “I suppose then, it’s a fair question to ask what exactly I’ll be to the little one once he’s” - Jaime knew, he _knew,_ what word Tyrion was thinking of and felt his good will start to fade in that split second - “...born.”

Relaxing, Jaime laced his fingers with Brienne’s and said, “Whatever Brienne feels is fitting.”

“Oh, don’t look at me.” Brienne blew out a breath. “I’ve got enough on my mind when it comes to me and him, you guys can figure out your own… whatever.”

“At this point, the kid will have his fair share of aunts and uncles, I can’t imagine it’ll hurt to add one more,” Jaime offered. Turning to his brother, he added, “All else fails, you can be Uncle Tyrion.”

“And I will take my duties as an uncle very seriously,” Tyrion proclaimed in a lofty voice. “Who else will be the one to offer him his first sip of wine? Stannis? Please. It’ll fall to me to teach him the ways of the world and how to meet its varied challenges. And reap its rewards.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyrion, the kid’s not even born yet,” Jaime ground out. “Lay off, will you?” 

“Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” Brienne wondered aloud.

“Best not to think too hard on it,” Jaime assured her. 

“But yes,” Tyrion promptly added. 

Brienne snorted. “I suspect you’re trying to make sure I never trust you enough to leave him in your care.”

Tyrion’s eyes gleamed with suspicion, clearly feeling caught out. “Is it working?”

“Only time will tell,” Brienne said. “But he’d best be of age the first time I see you heading his way with a glass of wine in your hand. Otherwise, you’ll be tossed out on your ass before you know it.”

Tyrion shifted over in Jaime’s direction and solemnly stated, “She’s perfect for you.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Jaime agreed. 

“What if I just have him hold it for me?” Tyrion asked Brienne. “My arms do get ever so tired and I drink an awful lot of wine. He’ll be like a squire of old, I’ve always wanted one of those. Or I could teach him to bartend! That’s a valuable life skill.”

“How much air do you think he’d get?” Brienne postulated in Jaime’s direction. “If I really put in the effort?”

“Plenty,” Jaime swore and gave Tyrion a sharp grin. “Care to test it out now, brother?”

“Fine,” Tyrion grunted. “Gods, I would think at least one of my niblings would be the happy recipient of my instruction. Cersei certainly isn’t open to my presence more than necessary. Joffrey may be a right twat, but Myrcella and Tommen are good kids.”

Brienne looked disappointed for him. “Perhaps it’ll help, all of us getting to know each other. I know that’s what Jaime wants.”

Tyrion looked profoundly confused, swiveling his head back and forth between them. “You do realize I’m talking about Cersei? Our sister?”

“Well, yes,” Brienne said slowly. 

“You actually _want_ to meet her? Even with-” Tyrion cut himself short, warily catching Jaime’s eye.

“Brienne knows,” Jaime replied, knowing exactly where Tyrion’s thoughts had gone.

“About-”

“That summer, yeah,” Jaime sighed out. 

Tyrion looked absolutely gobsmacked and muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.” He paused for a moment and added, “What about the…”

“The what?” Jaime asked, though he had an inkling of where the question was going and growled out, “You must be joking, you’re still with that?”

“With what?” Brienne asked, when neither one of them spoke further.

They communicated silently, making use of Tyrion’s expressive eyebrows and his own agitated shrugs, helped along by an eye roll or two. At last, Jaime gave in and said, “Go ahead. You’re the only one who keeps going on about it. Brienne can see for herself that it’s nonsense when they get here.”

“They’re coming _here_?” 

“It really is stupid,” Jaime told Brienne, who only looked more confused. Tyrion cleared his throat loudly and Jaime sighed in reply. 

“See, this is the thing,” Tyrion started, sitting up straight and taking on a serious air, as if it would make it any less laughable. “Not one of my niblings has come along the old-fashioned way.”

“Okay,” Brienne said back slowly. 

“If you know about that summer, then you know that Cersei went _away_ for a while.” Tyrion waited for Brienne’s nod before continuing. “Now, things improved some after she did, but Cersei’s never followed conventional judgment, before or since. And when she - and Jaime, as it were - came into their trust fund on their eighteenth birthdays, they each went out and made some significant purchases. Jaime went for a pricey sports car-”

“A cherry red Valyrian,” Jaime reflected wistfully. “Such a great car, I loved it.”

“-yes, yes and you were completely reckless with it, you idiot. He wrecked it within six months, but that’s beside the point. Cersei didn’t buy a car, she wanted something much more permanent, so she went to a sperm bank.”

Brienne started and shook her head. “Excuse me, what?”

“A sperm bank,” Tyrion repeated. “And nine months later, Joffrey was added to the Lannister lineage, which goes to show that all banks, no matter their trade, really need to be held liable for the quality of the product they put out.”

“Tyrion,” Jaime said warningly.

“Though that’s not to say Cersei’s parenting skills aren’t as much to blame,” Tyrion said. “She spoils the boy and is convinced the sun shines out of his ass. Suffice to say, it does not.”

“I hate to say it, but Joff is more than a little difficult,” Jaime confessed. Brienne seemed mildly concerned and he watched her closely as Tyrion kept going. 

“Our father was apoplectic, it’s not even close to what he’d planned for her - that being a sensible marriage to an appropriate man of his choosing - but she managed to give him a Lannister grandchild at the same time as she gave his plans the finger.” Tyrion was particularly gleeful at saying that. “I can at least admire that. And Cersei loved being a mother so much, she made the trip twice more and that’s how we got Myrcella and Tommen. Lovely kids, if both a bit shy, but that’s hardly surprising with how much Cersei lets Joffrey run roughshod over all of them, herself included. But that’s not the point of this, either. It’s my belief-”

“Your crackpot theory,” Jaime interjected. 

“My _belief_ ,” Tyrion reiterated, “is that when time came for Cersei to choose a donor, she may or may not have taken a photo of Jaime with her and asked them to procure whoever most closely matched what he looks like.”

Brienne gasped, much like he’d expected. Her eyes went wide as she took in Tyrion’s determined expression and the way Jaime put his free hand to his temple to try to coax away his immediate headache. 

“Whether she meant for them to have a purely Lannister look, I can’t say for sure. Hells, maybe she only did it because it was like providing a male version of herself, she’s narcissistic enough for it. But tell me I’m wrong,” Tyrion challenged him. “Tell me that Joff and, more so, Tommen don’t look exactly like you.”

“They look like Cersei,” Jaime said tiredly. “We’re twins, it makes sense that there’s some similarity. That doesn’t mean that she did that.”

“That didn’t stop her from trying-”

“ _Tyrion_.” Jaime took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I let you say it, now let it go. We need to just let this shit… go.”

Tyrion clamped his mouth shut, though his astounded expression spoke volumes. Brienne ran her thumb over Jaime’s where their hands were still interlaced and said, “I’m thirsty. Do you want something?”

“Sure,” Jaime said in a low voice. He reluctantly let her go as she asked Tyrion what he wanted and when they were alone, Jaime sighed out, “I’m trying really hard to move on from all of that, Tyrion.”

“It’s not as if you can erase it,” Tyrion said stiffly.

“Erase it, no, but maybe let this- this festering wound finally heal. Don’t you think maybe Joff would be less of a shit if we’d been more involved? That Tommen wouldn’t be half as timid if we were there for him? How much difference would it make to actually be their uncles instead of joking about where they came from?” He ran his hand over his head and then glanced back at where Brienne was pretending to straighten the platters of sandwiches and cookies. “Cersei is difficult, she always will be, but I can’t help but think that if we had gotten past the worst of it a long time ago that we’d all have been better off.”

“Where is this coming from?” Tyrion demanded, though his tone was dubious. Jaime couldn’t hold it against him, he was likely off balance from Jaime’s insistence on exposing their issues, as opposed to burying them down with humor or contempt as they typically did. It was a decision he made with Dr. Elder’s advice in mind, however, to take the chance to say the things he’d rather avoid. He couldn’t expect change to happen if he didn’t make the effort in the first place. 

“I’ve been getting help,” Jaime admitted. “Professional help. Which I should have gotten back then, but I didn’t… I didn’t know how bad it was until I started talking about it, first with Brienne and then with my therapist.”

Tyrion grumbled his protest, but Jaime wasn’t hindered. “It’s obvious that our father didn’t do us any favors, but it’s not as if we tried to improve things on our own. That’s what I’m trying to do now. It’s why Brienne invited Cersei - we’ve got to start somewhere and we might as well start here.”

Crossing his arms, Tyrion grunted, “I still say I’m right.”

“Sometimes you are, but what difference does it make here? We need to get past this already,” Jaime told him. Tyrion sneered lightly but didn’t retort out loud.

Brienne chose that time to return, likely having overheard that they’d come to an impasse. She gave a soda to Jaime but had poured a glass of wine for Tyrion, and handed it over with an understanding look on her face. When he took it, she reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a napkin wrapped bundle, opening it to reveal a few small cookies.

Jaime immediately tried to stop her. “Wait, that’s not- I was just messing around with those. I had them put away.”

She ignored him and offered the cookies to Tyrion. “Jaime made them, they’re pretty good.”

Tyrion paused as he reached out for them, open-mouthed and speechless for several seconds before he finished the movement and took a cookie from her. He stared at it and then at Jaime, finally saying, “What… who even _are_ you anymore?”

Jaime only threw one hand up in the air, knowing there was no simple way to answer it. “Just eat the damn cookie, Tyrion.”

He did, chewing slowly and giving Jaime a look he’d never seen before, something searching and careful. It was something new, but by gods, they needed something new and Jaime felt a strange sense of calm when Tyrion swallowed it down and said, “Not bad.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the nutty Antipodeans, with all the love in my heart.

Margaery and Sansa made it back just in time to hang up some more streamers and bunting before the rest of the guests began arriving. Catelyn Stark was one of the first and she was clearly shocked when Brienne introduced Jaime as her boyfriend and he beamed in response; Margaery guided her away before she could comment on it, but Jaime could feel the metaphorical daggers being aimed at his back for the majority of the afternoon. 

“Expect her to pull you aside at some point today,” Jaime hissed in Brienne’s ear. “She’ll try to make you give her a signal so that she can save you from my dastardly ways.”

“Joke’s on her,” Brienne replied quietly. “I like your dastardly ways.”

Olenna Tyrell came next, accompanied by a few of Margaery’s cousins. It was tempting to scrutinize each of the young women, to try and memorize Rosamund’s soft curls, Ilyna’s deep brown eyes and Marna’s cleft chin - to wonder, perhaps, what the kid could inherit from each of them. 

If any of them suspected that it was their contribution to Reny and Loras’ efforts that bore fruit, none of them gave any indication of it. Instead, they greeted Brienne with an array of broad grins, presenting more gifts and hugging her tightly, joyfully. Jaime exhaled, his muscles loosening when they turned back to one another, lacking any of the concern that had briefly overtaken him. 

Olenna set up camp on an armchair and Tyrion joined her. They split a bottle of wine after she patted Brienne's stomach and harrassed Jaime about making sure Brienne was well taken care of. It took little effort to read into her tone and arched brow, but while Brienne was mortified, Jaime laughed, partly from amusement, but more so from weary relief. 

After that came Stannis and his daughter. Shireen wore a floaty dress that she joyfully showed off to Margaery and Brienne, spinning so that it fanned out in a burst of white and blue. Stannis’ only concession was to discard his usual tie and jacket; his dress shirt and slacks were heavily starched with sharp lines that would likely cut a man if they stood too close.

He gave Brienne an awkward pat on the arm when they met up but then, at her encouragement, Stannis felt her stomach. When Jaime saw the barrage of emotions flit across his face, he motioned Stannis over to get a drink and gave the man an excuse to steady himself. 

Others came, vaguely familiar faces that Jaime didn’t personally know but that Margaery and Brienne easily recognized. He had to let her go to mingle, distracting himself by fixing up the teetering pile of gifts that had been set to one side and then going to Olenna and Tyrion, only to abandon them when they teamed up to tease him mercilessly.

He wasn’t left alone for long, since Addam and his wife Melara showed up shortly after that. It was the perfect opportunity to save Brienne from Catelyn’s hushed urging and Jaime introduced them all with pleasure. Everyone traded congratulations when Addam and Melara announced that they were also expecting. 

“Who would have thought it?” Addam asked while they observed Brienne and Melara share their phone numbers and talk about birth plans and body aches. “Between us, I fully expected I’d be the first one to be a dad, but you just had to dash ahead of me, didn’t you?”

Jaime shook his head, though it struck a nerve he’d rather leave be. “I won’t be his dad, not like that.”

Addam rolled his eyes. “Dad-like, whatever. You’ll be a male authority figure, what else would you call it?”

“Tywin Lannister is a male authority figure, I’d hardly classify him as a dad,” Jaime said roughly. 

“Nah,” Addam waved it off. He put his hand on the back of Jaime’s neck and jostled him slightly. “You’ll do a hell of a lot better than he ever did.”

“I’ll try at least,” Jaime said in a quieter tone. 

Margaery and Sansa were setting up parlor games when the doorbell rang again and Jaime looked at the door with a mix of trepidation and hope. It was just as likely that Cersei wouldn’t show up even though she’d texted and said she would after Jaime had extended the invitation. It was so heavy on his mind, it took a moment before he was able to process who was actually at the door: Oberyn, Ellaria and Arianne Martell. 

“What the hells?” Jaime roared out and went to greet them, meeting Oberyn in a back-slapping hug and then accepting a kiss on the cheek from Ellaria. He merely nodded at Arianne, who looked as if she didn’t know what she was doing there and had chosen to roll with it anyway. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Arianne was moving to King’s Landing this weekend and we decided to give her a hand,” Ellaria explained. She honed in on Brienne and told him, “As nice as it is to see you, you are not the center of attention today. Do try to accept that with some grace. Come on, Arianne, let me introduce you.”

“Thank you, sorry!” Arianne called out as she was dragged along.

Jaime chuckled after them and then at Oberyn, his heart happy at the sight of his friends. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“As if we would have missed it,” Oberyn replied. They watched Ellaria descend on Brienne, an oddly accurate description as she stood a good half-foot shorter but commanded attention like no one else in the room when she gave a crowing shout in greeting. She wrapped Brienne in an enthusiastic hug that left her looking startled and then fond as she hugged Ellaria in return. “Ellaria wouldn’t have stayed away come hells or high waters.”

“Should have expected that much,” Jaime agreed. 

“So that’s Brienne.” Oberyn admired her, his appreciation obvious in his gaze and cocked eyebrow. “The descriptions I’ve heard from you and Ellaria don’t do her justice.”

Jaime grinned back at him. “Nothing could ever.”

They joined everyone else, Jaime making introductions between those he knew and getting to know others that had been Renly and Loras’ friends more than anything else. He heard their names mentioned from time to time and saw the rueful looks traded among those who had known them, though it seemed most everyone was determined to keep the mood light and cheerful. It became a tight fit in the apartment, everyone roaming around and bouncing balloons off of one another, nibbling on snacks and drinking punch. 

They played games, silly though they were, ones where Brienne got wrapped up in ribbon and then another where a bag was passed around and the guests had to figure out what baby-related items were held within. Stannis was surprisingly deft at a word game, passing on his prize to Shireen, who glowed under the attention of being the only child in the room. 

Jaime was in the middle of trying - with poor results - to draw a red lion on a onesie when Brienne called him over. Squinting with one eye, he decided that it could pass for a cat or tiger and was thus acceptable, put it aside and headed her way. 

He and Margaery bookended Brienne on the couch, passing her gifts from the massive pile. Half the items from the registry were revealed quickly enough, but Brienne still made a point to present them to the room at large as if they were completely unexpected. Jaime whooped with satisfaction when she unearthed both mobiles, unbothered when Brienne playfully threatened, “I can still return one of them.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jaime said back, but he made sure to open both packages in a fashion that would make returning them more trouble than it was worth.

Brienne was nearing the end of the pile, showing off another set of clothes to the crowd when a pair of small hands offered Jaime a package. He took it with a distracted thanks only to stop short and ask, “Myrcella, when did you get here?”

He quickly scanned the room and caught sight of Cersei in the back of the group of people, her face inscrutable. She looked away when she realized he’d seen her. 

“A little while ago,” Myrcella answered. She wore an outfit similar to Shireen’s and, behind her, Tommen was dressed just as neatly in a bow tie and suspenders. Joffrey was nowhere in sight but Jaime was unsurprised that he’d apparently skipped out on the party. “Mama said we have to go, though.”

“No, wait, hold on,” Jaime said hurriedly. He turned to Brienne to find that she’d been watching their interaction and she gave him a subtle nod and he leaned in to give her a grateful kiss. Turning back to Myrcella, he said, “You can’t go before you’ve had cake, can you? Here, I want you to meet Shireen, both of you. I’ll talk to your mother and see if you can stay for a while yet.”

Myrcella lit up. Try as he might to ignore it, Jaime saw what Tyrion had been pointing out for years; she was Cersei come again, only far more bubbly and with strawberry-blonde hair instead of gold. Tommen had hazel eyes that weren’t found in the Lannister family tree but aside from that, looking at Tommen was akin to looking into a time-lapsing mirror. 

As much as he hated Tyrion’s speculation, he couldn’t help but agree it had _some_ merit. 

“You can’t be leaving already,” was the first thing Jaime said to her as he approached. Cersei frowned at him and then looked back at everyone else, shrugging insouciantly and replying, “It’s not as if you’d have missed me.”

“Cersei…” Jaime trailed off, frustrated with her already. It was a low bar, but still. “Will you at least let Myrcella and Tommen stay? I haven’t seen them in months.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Cersei worked her jaw from side to side. “I’m not the one who stopped answering the phone.”

“I know that, I’ve apologized for it, don’t act as if I haven’t,” Jaime retorted. When he felt a few people glance back in their direction, he pinched his lips together and motioned to the door. Cersei gave him a cold glare, but twirled in place to head that way and it wasn’t until they were out in the hallway that he spoke again. “I didn’t see you get here, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were _busy_ ,” Cersei answered. “Is that really her? The woman you were next to? Gods, I’d have thought your tastes were more discern-”

“Don’t,” Jaime said harshly. “Don’t you dare insult her, I won’t stand for it.”

She fell into a sulk and Jaime had to shake his head. “Damn it, Cersei. Is this the only reason you came, to pick a fight?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing, why in the hells did you even ask me to come?” Cersei crossed her arms, looking oddly like Tyrion as she did so, though neither of them would thank him for the observation. “To shove it in my face? You, sitting there without a care in the world and showing off the happy little family you’re making? Sure, let’s make sure Cersei is watching, show her how it’s really supposed to be.”

“Not a care-” Jaime scoffed, astounded. “Are you serious?”

Cersei answered him with a mulish look.

“I’m not trying to shove _anything_ in your face,” Jaime told her.

“Right,” Cersei said shortly. “Keep telling yourself that.”

She tried moving past him to open the door and Jaime couldn’t stifle the absurd laugh building in his chest. “Gods, you’re so dramatic. Have you always been this fucking dramatic? Why am I even asking, of course you have.”

“Move,” Cersei ordered loudly, but Jaime remained where he was, blocking her way. She tried reaching around him and he kept his feet solidly on the ground, waiting until she gave up and retreated a few steps, fixing him with a darker glare than before. “What then, Jaime, _what_? What is it that you want? I’m here and you made your point and it couldn’t have been any clearer, so will you get out of my damned way already?”

“Whatever point you think I was trying to make, you’re wrong,” Jaime replied, striving to restore his calm. He should have trusted in the fact that his sister would get more wrong than she did right; he couldn’t change her, but he could change what he did when she was so utterly _Cersei_. 

She hadn’t always been this way. It was difficult to remember how she’d been, long before the worst of it, but Jaime knew that much. 

It’d been more than fifteen years and her eyes were hard and voice cold, but it reverberated in his mind, how she’d begged for him when they’d taken her away. He’d been too young to see past his anger and hurt, but he wasn’t that boy anymore. There was no telling if that girl was somewhere inside of her; he thought she might be. The more furious she looked, the more certain Jaime became of it. The suspicion reminded him to soften his own voice, to stop holding himself so rigidly. 

There were a million things he could have said, accusatory things, cruel assessments and angry diatribes. None of it would make a difference. What had happened between them would take more than a few words to lay it to rest. Jaime wouldn’t kid himself, it’d likely take years still. All they needed as they stood opposed, all he could ask for, was the first step and it couldn’t be done out of anger. 

Resolved in his choice, Jaime steadied his voice and said, “I didn’t ask you here to show off my new family. I asked you here because I want us to _be_ a family, Cersei.”

She froze when he said it, her expression shuttered. 

“All of us. You, Tyrion, me and Brienne, all of the kids, the ones we have and the ones that might be one day,” Jaime kept on. “We’ve all got this godsdamn resentment that we’ve held onto for years and aren’t you… Aren’t you tired of it? The things we don’t talk about because gods forbid that we actually try to be better than what we used to be. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t matter, I’m so fucking tired of it.”

Cersei tried and plainly failed to harden her face again, her chin trembling the longer he looked at her. When she didn’t respond, Jaime quietly said, “It’s up to you, but that’s what I want, Cersei. If you still want to leave, you’re free to come in and get Myrcella and Tommen, but if you think- if you think that maybe one day we can be better than this, I’d like it if you stayed.”

Jaime didn’t wait for her to respond. All he could do was turn in place to go back inside, back to Brienne and the kid and their friends and the promise that each of them held. He didn’t know what Cersei would choose to do, wasn’t sure that what he’d told her would be enough. Regardless, even if Cersei wasn’t willing, he would still make the effort to do better, be better. He could do it without her. 

But gods, he hoped. 

###### 

Late that evening, Jaime tucked in behind Brienne in his bed, drawing close enough to wrap his arm in the narrow space above her stomach and settle his chest against the warm expanse of her back. They were both far too tired to do anything more, but he held her close for the sake of it, dropping his forehead against the long column of her neck and inhaling deeply. He felt the bed dip where Tiger and then Salmon jumped onto the end, curling together in a furry knot behind his legs. 

“I feel bad, leaving Margaery and Sansa with the clean up,” Brienne told him, sounding wide awake; he could have sworn she’d been asleep before he’d shut off the lights.

“You know they’d get mad at you for trying to help,” Jaime replied. “Easier to just let them do it and get some rest in the meantime.”

“I know.” She was quiet for a long time, but he wasn’t fooled again. “I liked meeting Tommen and Myrcella, they were sweet.”

“They are.”

“And your sister… I mean, it was only in passing, but she seemed pleasant.”

Jaime let out a somewhat incredulous laugh. “An effort made possible only by the gods, I’m sure of it.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that when he offered Cersei a choice - to take her children and go or to join in - that she would find a third option that she found more palatable. Fifteen minutes after he’d gone back inside, a text message popped up on his phone, one in which she said that she would return in an hour’s time to pick up her children. 

When she did, Cersei stayed at the door, but permitted Myrcella to drag Brienne over to present them to one another. They didn’t exchange more than a handful of words and a brief handshake, but Jaime couldn’t have planned it better; Myrcella’s sweet nature made Cersei softer, less abrupt, and Brienne had come away unscathed. That was promising in itself. It was the nod that Cersei had sent in his direction from afar, though, that allowed him to think it wasn’t useless, after all, to hope. 

“Are you okay?” Brienne asked him quietly.

He forced himself to wait, to consider it. “Yes,” he decided, “I think I am.”

“I’m glad.” Brienne turned her face to kiss his arm where it rested on the pillow above her head and then settled back down. 

“How about you?” Jaime asked. At first he meant it in regards to the length of the day, the sheer multitude of people that had sought Brienne's attention. She’d looked exhausted by the end of it and it had taken little effort to convince her to stay at his place since hers was a mess. The longer she took to reply, however, led Jaime to realize she’d interpreted the question differently and he kept her firmly in his grasp when she sighed. 

“I missed them today, a lot,” Brienne answered. “I miss them everyday, but today… It was tough. When I opened the gifts, when their friends and Loras’ cousins showed up. I hadn’t seen a lot of them in a long time. It was good that Margaery invited them.”

“She has good ideas, if perhaps only occasionally.”

“Do you think-” Brienne stopped short and set her hand over his where it was stroking under her breast. 

“Do I think what?”

“That… that _this_ would have happened, if Renly and Loras hadn’t died?” Brienne whispered.

It made him pause again and Jaime’s thoughts raced as he contemplated it. He was quiet for so long that Brienne was the first to speak again. “I would have moved in right around this point. What would have been like, if that’s when we actually saw each other again?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Jaime admitted. So much of what happened between them, how it began, was entangled with her loss and loneliness, what had made her more receptive to his presence. It was seeing those things in her that made Jaime take a harder look at himself. So much had resulted from a situation that neither of them could have ever controlled. “I do know that I was interested in you way before that. I don’t think it’s that far of a stretch that I would have fallen in love with you anyway, eventually.”

Brienne’s chest spread under their hands when she breathed in deeply. It was the first time he’d said it since he’d left for Dorne, the words he’d kept tamped down to give her the time she needed to navigate the new feeling between them. Though Jaime never repeated it aloud, he tried to show it, everyday. And everyday, he saw it from her.

It was hardly a surprise - it was absolutely everything - when Brienne said, “I love you, too.”

Jaime kissed the back of her shoulder and hummed his reply. In it, he told her he’d already known, because her love was more than saying it for him to hear. It was in the hand Brienne reached out to him when he’d been at his lowest, the way she’d scrambled to the end of the bed to peer over the edge and laugh at how he’d awkwardly landed on the floor. Brienne showed him when she sat by his side when he sent off that text to his sister, then pulled him close until he could make his hands stop shaking and again when she tried to make Tyrion see that Jaime was more than he used to be. 

No one had ever loved him the way Brienne Tarth did.

“I hate that you lost them,” Jaime told her. “If this one good thing came of it, I’m thankful to have it. But I’m sorry that I never got to know them like you did, I’m sorry I’ll never get to know your best friend.”

Brienne’s body hitched under his hand and she sounded strained when she replied, “It would have been something, the two of you actually getting along. I probably would have torn my hair out, but… yeah. Yeah, you would have liked each other.”

“Tell me more about him, and Loras.”

She picked up his hand to graze her lips across the back of it, as if he were a maiden that had bestowed upon her a favor. The tears he felt against his skin were nowhere to be found in her voice, however, when she let out a slow breath and said, “Okay.”

###### 

The intervening weeks before the kid was born, the last period of time it would be just Jaime and Brienne - it wasn’t. There was too much to do, too much for which to prepare. Olenna decided she would stay for a full week and so did Ellaria, and they frequently whisked Brienne away, along with Margaery and any other lady was willing. Sansa and Melara often joined them, as did Arianne.

Brienne tried to keep it to his working hours, but he couldn’t fault her for having a fuller life, that more people appreciated her presence and made it clear that she understood what she meant to them. Jaime could have her evenings and mornings, the two of them hopping back and forth between their apartments, resorting to his more often when Margaery mocked them enough.

They did, despite Margaery’s rote sighs, spend time apart of their own volition. There were nights where Brienne went upstairs to the roof, stayed there for at least an hour, alone. She never told Jaime why, but he could piece it together, that it came more often after she met with Davos, much like he needed his own quiet evenings after he saw Dr. Elder. 

He came home one day to find a newly assembled shelf just outside of his kitchen, perfectly level and half-filled with his recipe books.

“You know what this means?” Jaime asked, after he’d enthusiastically kissed her to express his thanks.

“You’re going to fill it up?” Brienne asked wryly.

“I’m gonna fill it up,” Jaime agreed. Brienne chortled at his poor attempt at a dignified tone. 

A few days later, with Margaery’s help, Jaime made a gesture of his own. She kept Brienne out the majority of the evening, time that Jaime used to rearrange his bedroom so that he could place a crib - identical to the one he’d bought her, but already fully constructed, thankfully - in the corner. He debated it and finally put up the sun, moon and stars in his room and the lion mobile in hers. 

When he showed it off to her, his arm grandly spread, Brienne took a few minutes to recover, sitting at the edge of his bed with a faraway look on her face.

“Is it too much?” It was probably too much, damn it. Margaery hadn’t said though, he’d thought she even grudgingly approved-

“It is… exactly you,” Brienne replied, laughing helplessly. She stood and kissed him, warm and firm and accepting. “Thank you.”

“It’s not about living with me, not until you’re ready,,” Jaime told her, wanting to be clear and Brienne was already nodding as he continued. “Just - don’t ever doubt that I want you here. Both of you.”

“I understand.” Brienne’s eyes were blazing and gods, her love was, too. “We’ll be here.”

“Good,” Jaime murmured and kissed her again.

###### 

He didn’t want to leave the morning Brienne started having contractions. Margaery insisted that he go to work anyway.

“It’ll take hours, maybe even days.” Margaery put the briefcase to his chest and pressed on it until Jaime held on with both hands. “They’re still uneven and far apart and all you’ll do is stress her out with your hovering. Go, we’ve got this.”

“It’s fine, Jaime,” Brienne called out from where he’d herded her onto the couch, just after the first time they’d witnessed her gasp and looked at them, wide-eyed, over breakfast. “I’ll call you if it changes, I promise.”

“You’ll call?” Jaime repeated.

“That’s literally what I just said,” Brienne replied, clearly annoyed.

“Call me,” Jaime hissed at Margaery anyway; she rolled her eyes and nodded. 

His day at work was a wash, especially since he’d already started organizing matters so he could be out for the duration. Tyrion teasingly called it paternity leave when he’d suggested it and Jaime had asked him to rephrase it. He was Brienne’s partner, that went without question, but it seemed disrespectful to Renly and Loras to take on that particular mantle. Instead, they officially termed it a leave of absence and Tyrion was to use the time to vet Arianne and see if she was ready to be trusted with some of their accounts.

They were meeting, the three of them, in the early afternoon when Tyrion saw Jaime check his phone and announced, “That’s it, I’m calling it, your leave starts now.”

“It’s fine,” Jaime replied, though he was already estimating how long it would take him to get back to the apartment in the current traffic. “There’s no news, a couple more hours won’t make any difference.”

“The difference is that I won’t have to haul myself across this table and smash your damned phone, which is what I’ll do if I have to see you look at it another damned time,” Tyrion swore. 

Arianne gave Jaime a bracing grin. “Hate to say it, boss, but I don’t think we’re going to get anything done when you’re this distracted.”

“Listen to your criminal protege,” Tyrion advised him, jabbing his finger in her direction and then Jaime’s. “Once you’re gone, I can get started on whipping her into shape. We’ll see if your idiotic gamble pays off.”

“Man, you commit corporate espionage one time and suddenly no one trusts you anymore,” Arianne said sarcastically. 

Tyrion growled at her and Jaime grinned. He was ready to be home, but damned if he didn’t feel that he was about to miss out on some prime entertainment in the office. 

When he got back to their building, Jaime didn’t have to search Brienne out; she was pacing back and forth in the hallway between their apartments and she looked far more worn than he had left her that morning, her cheeks red and tendrils of hair sticking to her forehead. She didn’t answer straight away when he asked after her, instead raising a single finger in the air, puffing out a few breaths and then saying, “All right, that one sucked. That one sucked a lot.”

“You said there was no news.” Jaime raced forward when she leaned on the wall, the back of her head thumping dully against it and he darted his hand in between so she couldn’t do it again. “You told me that everything was fine.”

“I mean, relatively?” Brienne grimaced. “They’re cycling closer together, but not nearly enough to go in. The kid’s not ready yet, there’s no point of going to the hospital when this could still stall out.”

“ _Stall out_?”

“The miracle of childbirth.” Brienne groaned and pushed off the wall. She resumed her pacing and looked at her watch. “I’d say they’re just over ten minutes apart now, which is more often than a couple hours ago, so maybe it isn’t a false alarm like I thought it might be.”

Jaime had to force his mouth to close; it’d fallen open as she continued her trek up and down the corridor. “It doesn’t look like a false alarm to me. Where the hells is Margaery?”

“Inside, where I sent her after she got too overbearing and I’ll send you in, too, for the same reason,” Brienne warned him. She directed her voice at the door: “And I bet she’s watching through the peephole anyway!”

Margaery pulled open the door and sharply retorted, “As if I was going to leave you unsupervised.”

“You are both ridiculous,” Brienne said fervently. She brushed by Jaime and then Margaery to go inside. “I am not an invalid, women give birth every day!”

They followed after her, only for Brienne to pick up Salmon and go into her room, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah,” Margaery said at Jaime’s startled look, “this isn’t going to be very fun, is it?”

They gave her half an hour and Jaime hated every godsdamn second of it. Margaery pushed him out the door again and he was back within ten minutes with a bag filled with a couple changes of clothes and toiletries. If he had to sleep on the couch, so be it, but none of the seven hells would keep him any further away.

He purposefully put Tiger in Margaery’s arms to keep him contained and went into Brienne’s room to find her leaning over the bed, her hands flat on the mattress and her head hanging down low. She was doing some of the breathing exercises he recognized from the class; he waited until she finished with the entire cascade, but she cut him off before he could even start. 

“I’m fine.”

“I see that,” Jaime replied carefully. 

She looked at him from under her outstretched arms. “Don’t patronize me, Jaime.”

“I didn’t think I was.” He watched as she bent her elbows and bounced back from the bed, turning to him with her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looked fierce and weary and - “I’d understand if you’re nervous.”

“I'm not nervous,” Brienne said through gritted teeth. 

“Pissed off then,” Jaime amended. “How much did Margaery get on your nerves today?”

Margaery bleated out _Hey!_ from behind him and Jaime shut the door. 

No matter of scowling could conceal that he’d made Brienne smile, just a little. “It wasn’t only her, someone else was blowing up my damned phone the entire day.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaime offered. “If you’re not nervous, then at least forgive that I am. I think I’m nervous enough for us both.”

It came slowly, the slackening of her body, her shoulders going down and her hands loosening until he could see her palms and how they flushed pink after being grasped so tightly closed. “I can’t,” Brienne faltered, her gaze unfocused, “I can’t believe he’s coming.”

Jaime shook his head in awe. “Me either.”

“Can you please just… let me be for a while?” Brienne asked. “I really am okay. Trust me that I’d tell you if I wasn’t. I’ll tell you when I need to go, when I can’t-”

“Tell us when you need us,” Jaime interrupted.

“Thank you,” Brienne said quietly.

It was another several hours, time Jaime used to distract himself by taking stock of the kitchen and making notes on his phone for what he’d need to order for delivery. Margaery folded tiny shirts and pants and soft blankets into neat piles, moving them into baskets and away from Tiger’s curious nudging whenever he got too close. Brienne allowed them to keep the door open and they took turns checking in on her from a distance, briefly and silently observing when she paced and then laid down, over and over again. 

They called Olenna and Stannis, Oberyn and Ellaria, Sansa and even Catelyn. They held a collective bated breath until, as the sun began to set and cast a rosy gold hue in the room, she came to the doorway. He and Margaery jumped to attention and Brienne said, “I think it’s time. Let’s go.”

###### 

It wouldn’t help any, but Jaime wanted to reach back in time to shake himself, to tell that ignorant man that he should have appreciated the calm while he could. 

It was so much worse, watching Brienne struggle through the contractions that came and went more frequently. He and Margaery bracketed her hospital bed, trying not to trip over the cords and lines that checked her vital signs, the monitor strapped around her waist that read the kid’s heart rate. They took turns holding her hands - a selfish part of him was pleased that he bore it better than Margaery, though she paid him no need - as the labor progressed. 

It’d been hours and the stolid, clear-eyed nurse told them it could be hours yet; the doctor had been in to see her once and had said the same. Time came, however, when Jaime observed her looking at the monitor print out and felt a cold sensation engulf him when she frowned and then felt around Brienne’s abdomen. 

“What is it?” Margaery demanded. 

“He’s not turning,” the woman, Alys according to her name tag, informed them. “And I’m starting to see some changes on his monitor. It’s early yet-” 

“But I did the exercises,” Brienne burst out, barely catching her breath from the last round. “I’ve been doing them for weeks.”

“Babies, they have minds of their own and their own brand of stubbornness,” Alys said soothingly. “We still have time, and options, to encourage him to get in line.”

Brienne swallowed hard and said, “Do whatever you have to, whatever works.”

“There’s something we can do, but I’ll need some help, so let me get another nurse, okay? I’ll let the doctor know, too.”

“Yes,” Brienne pleaded. She caught Jaime’s eye and the distress he saw there nearly rent him in two. “I don’t know why- I did everything they said I should.”

“I know, we know.” Jaime bent forward and pressed his head to her temple. “It’s okay, they’ll do what they can to help.”

“We’re here,” Margaery said encouragingly and Brienne nodded against him. “You can do this, Brienne.”

“I’m getting tired.” Brienne rolled her head back and Jaime refrained from sharing his opinion that she’d sailed past _tired_ hours before, that now she looked exhausted down to her bones. Her hair was drenched with sweat, the flush he normally loved seeing fluctuated in and out, making her look dark red and then pale in turns. 

If he could have taken any of it from her, he would have. Impossible as it was, Jaime would have wrenched the pain as far away from her so she could finally rest, to breathe uninterrupted. 

“All right, we’re here and Dr. Meribald is on his way,” Alys announced as she came back in. A dark-haired man followed her, carting along a machine, and Jaime recoiled as he saw a pair of oddly-familiar blue eyes look back at him. Not Brienne blue - Baratheon blue. 

The low gasps that came from Brienne and Margaery told him he wasn’t seeing things. Alys and the man didn’t appear to notice as they strapped on gloves and Alys introduced them with, “This is Edric, he’s going to give us a hand.”

Edric gave them a wave, likely unaware of how he’d startled them all. “Sounds like we’ve got a stubborn baby on our hands! If you don’t mind, I’ll get on over here.” He gestured at Jaime and he blindly retreated a few steps, almost tripping. “Ah, watch your step. We don’t want dad in the hospital, too.”

“No, I’m not…” Jaime lost the words as he looked over at Brienne and saw how her rounded eyes were trained on Edric’s face. 

“Oh, sorry, so is that mom over there, then?” Edric tipped his head at Margaery. 

“I’m auntie,” Margaery replied faintly. 

“I just keep sticking my foot in it, don’t I?” He said, cheerfully oblivious to their shock. Alys chuckled and displaced Margaery on Brienne’s other side. Edric looked down at Brienne and let out of a self-deprecating laugh. “You’re mom for sure, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Brienne still stared at him, awestruck.

The two nurses worked in tandem, Edric smiling apologetically when he squirted gel on Brienne’s stomach; she flinched, but so did Margaery, and Jaime knew it was more to do with how his smile crooked up on one side, in a hauntingly recognizable way, that caused their reaction.

“Think we should set up for an external version?” Edric asked Alys after studying the screen, who nodded in reply and started pulling out tiny vials of medications. They traded a few more words that were nothing but nonsense to Jaime, but he got the general gist, that they planned to make the kid _turn from the outside_ \- 

“Wait, hold on, is this safe?” Jaime blurted out. Margaery came to his side and nodded frantically. “To… shove him around? Will Brienne be all right?”

“It’s a standard intervention in these situations. There are risks,” Edric answered. He turned to Brienne, speaking directly to her. “There are, and we won’t do it without Dr. Meribald here, we’re just getting ready for him. We’ll give you sedation to help you relax, but you may still feel a great deal of pressure, even pain. It’s the only option we have, however, if you still want to go the natural birth route-”

“I do,” Brienne insisted. “That’s always been- that’s what I planned to do.”

“There’s still a chance we’ll have to take you to surgery,” Alys informed her. “If it takes too much of a toll on you or-”

Brienne cut her off, setting her jaw and with a determined look on her face. “I can do it.”

“We still need to watch out for the baby,” Edric said gently. His soothing tone, at least, was novel. “If he doesn’t tolerate it, we’ll stop.”

There was nothing about what he said that Brienne clearly felt she could object to; she nodded briefly and turned away, schooling her face into a calm facade that was completely betrayed by the tremor in her voice when she said, “I’ll do it and he’ll move and it’ll be fine. It will be fine.”

Jaime answered by bringing her in close, until Brienne could rest her face against his shoulder, quietly telling her, “You’re doing great, okay? Whatever happens, we’re here, I’m here.” She didn’t reply; instead he felt her body go tight as another contraction came over her, had to reluctantly let go when she bore backwards and set her teeth anew to get through it. 

Dr. Meribald arrived soon after, a warm grin on his face when he greeted all three of them. He did as the nurses had, running his hands over Brienne’s belly and making questioning noises under his breath as he did so, then ran the ultrasound again. His grin faded slightly and Brienne tensed further even before he said, “Brienne, I’ll be frank. From what I’m seeing here, I’m erring towards recommending a cesarean. Your son’s heart rate is steady, but I’m not seeing as much amniotic fluid as I’d like to have in there. It could be rather difficult for you.”

Brienne brought her hands up to her face, pushing the heels into her eyes. 

“I know that’s not what mothers want to hear-” 

“Can we please… just once,” Brienne interrupted yet again, still unseeing. She dropped her arms and Jaime took a ragged breath, unease spiking through him at the sight of her blatant exhaustion. “Can we just try, please? I can do it, I can handle it. If he can do it, so can I. Please.”

“Brienne.”

“Jaime.” She looked so fucking tired and so resolute at the same time. “I have to try.”

“All right,” Jaime said softly and tugged her in close. “If he’s okay with it.”

Dr. Meribald didn’t answer right away, his attention back to the ultrasound. Several more moments passed and then he nodded. “All right, we’ll try once. But I’m going to have the staff ready the surgical suite, just in case. The most important thing is to keep the both of you safe and I’ve been able to do this in similar situations, but we’ll still prepare for the alternative.”

“Thank you,” Brienne replied, slumping back against her pillow. 

“Do you want to step out?” Dr. Meribald asked and it wasn’t until Margaery answered with a stringent _no_ that Jaime realized he’d been speaking to them. He shook his head automatically. “No, we’re staying.”

“All right,” Dr. Meribald replied, “we’ll get started in a few minutes.”

There was another contraction, another horrible expanse of time where Brienne clenched down on his and Margaery’s hands from where they had grasped hers. Jaime listened to the baby monitor, but the pace was so rapid it seemed unchanged to him. When the team took their positions, he and Margaery were shuffled back to stand to one side, only Jaime able to hold onto her.

He’d thought it couldn't get worse - he’d been wrong. Jaime kept his eyes trained on Brienne’s as they worked, his back to Edric and Dr. Meribald’s attempt. But Jaime watched every second of it play out on her face, the pain breaking through the sedation that had made her eyes go cloudy and he was about to yell at them to stop, to damn the entire endeavor to all seven hells, when both men stepped back. 

“Did it work?” Brienne panted out. Her face was red again and Jaime pressed his lips to her sweaty brow. “Did I do it?”

Her face crumpled when Dr. Meribald said, “We weren’t able to complete it, Brienne. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to take you to surgery. Alys, let anesthesia know we’re heading that way.”

“No, no, try again,” Brienne said back, her voice going high and panicked. Jaime reached for her, murmuring _it’s okay, it’s okay,_ all of which Brienne ignored. “One more time-”

“Brienne,” Dr. Meribald took up her free hand. “You did your best, we did our best, but this is the right thing to do.”

“I can do it, I can, I can-”

“But you don’t have to.” It was Margaery who stepped forward, skirting around Jaime and Dr. Meribald. The doctor stepped back so Margaery could put her hands to Brienne’s cheeks, halting them from where Brienne had been hurriedly shaking her head back and forth in denial. “Brienne. _Brienne._ ”

Brienne took a deep, jolting breath and dropped her head down.

“You _can_ do it,” Margaery said softly and Jaime nearly pulled her back, furious that she was egging Brienne on. Then she continued, “You can, but you don’t have to. Do you understand? Sometimes you do everything right and you still need help. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I wanted-” Brienne stopped, her voice lost in a quickly muffled sob.

“There are things we can’t control and it fucking sucks, but we can’t let you make this any harder for yourself,” Margaery entreated. “Listen to me. _Listen._ If our little guy wants to make his way ass-backwards into the world, we’ll just have to let him and then teach him otherwise. And you’re going to be amazing at it, I know you will. You’ll show him everything he needs to know. But first we need to get him out and we have to let them do it in a way that’s safe for both of you, okay?”

Brienne closed her eyes tightly and nodded. 

“Good,” Margaery said, relief written all over her in the way she dropped to sit at Brienne’s side. 

“Sounds like your sister’s got the right idea of it,” Edric said from behind them. Jaime hadn’t even noticed that he’d stayed behind, but he beamed at them all when they jerked around to face him. “All right, I’ll let them know we’re good to go.”

He exited the room after Dr. Meribald, leaving them all in a state of bafflement and it was Jaime who finally said, “I’m not the only one who sees it, right?”

“So fucking weird,” Margaery muttered in agreement. 

Between them, Brienne took in a heavy breath, letting it out slowly between her pursed lips. Visibly bone-weary, but calmer, she said, “Everything has been so… I just wanted to get this one thing right. This one time, I wanted to do it like everyone else and I couldn’t manage that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault, it happens,” Margaery assured her, her voice overlapping Jaime’s when said, “Next time.”

Both women stopped and stared at him.

Jaime ignored how Margaery’s brow had arched high and reached forward to put his palm on the back of Brienne’s neck so that he had her full attention. She gnawed at her lip, leaving it a reddened, chapped mess. Her hair was damp with sweat, her cheeks flushed and patchy from her exertion and damned obstinacy and he’d never seen her look more incredible. He’d never loved her more. “Next time, all right?”

“Next time,” Brienne echoed quietly. They held each other’s gaze and Jaime watched a smile grow on her face, one that mirrored his own.

“That’s very sweet, but in the meanwhile, how about we focus on this one?” Margaery interjected, her tone dry. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be auntie to whoever comes next, too,” Jaime promised her. 

“As if you could stop me,” Margaery returned. They exchanged a grin, distracted only when Brienne groaned with another contraction.

Edric and Alys came back midway through it, speedily disconnecting Brienne from all the monitors and letting Jaime and Margaery know what to expect. It was when Alys asked, “We can take one person with us. Who’s coming with?” that they both froze.

“I, uh,” Jaime started, looking askance at Margaery. As much as he wanted to be at Brienne’s side for it, part of him already knew that it would be right, this time, for her-

“Jaime will go,” Margaery answered.

Taken aback, Jaime began, “No, you-”

“Go, Jaime,” Margaery said with a shake of her head. She gave him a significant look. “Not only next time. This time, too.”

He felt his breath catch, knowing what she was giving him, what she was letting him take for himself. “Marg-”

“Just go already!” She said it with a chastising laugh, turning him and shoving him after where the nurses had already started pushing Brienne’s bed out the door. “Before I change my mind.”

He chased after to catch up and walk alongside the bed. Brienne gave him a wondering look and Jaime reached in to squeeze her hand, giving her silent encouragement. It was a short trip to the surgical suite and Alys had him stand to the side as they wheeled her in; it was Edric who stayed behind and guided him to a locker room, handing him a pile of fabric.

“You’ll need to change into scrubs before going in,” Edric told him. “I’ll get you a hat and mask when you come back outside.”

“Thanks,” Jaime said blankly, still agog at the speed in which they had moved, at Margaery’s acquiescence and Brienne’s nervous, overwhelmed state. It was hard to get his thoughts straight and he was more than willing to lay the blame on that fact for what he said next. “You from the Stormlands, Edric?”

The younger man paused at the exit. “I’m not, but my mom is. Why?”

“You have the look.” The understatement of the godsdamn century. “I was just curious.”

“Can’t say I’ve never heard that before,” Edric remarked dryly.

“No?”

“Far as I can tell, there’s a fair few of us that look similar, so it’s likely that the guy who got my mom pregnant in high school didn’t stop there. Pretty much the only way I know he’s still around.” Edric cringed once it was out and shamefacedly added, “Sorry, that was way too much information, excuse me.”

“Don’t worry about it, I did ask,” Jaime replied. 

Edric tipped his head to one side in a funny little nod, as if to say _I suppose so_. 

“Do you…” Jaime trailed off and tried to figure out how to say it as he tugged the scrubs over his clothes. If he had it right, this young man was about to help deliver his own cousin - it was mind-boggling. “Ignore me if it’s out of line, but does it matter to you? Not knowing him?”

“Nope,” Edric said simply. “My mom is great and I don’t think I missed out at all, especially if he’s the kind of person who wasn’t interested in sticking around in the first place.”

He turned, motioning Jaime to follow him out back to the hallway. Edric handed him shoe covers and a mask when he did. 

“You know,” Edric started and Jaime paused briefly, bent over with one foot held between his hands. He finished slipping on the cover and stood, giving Edric a careful once-over. Up close, the resemblance diminished; Edric’s nose was wider, his jaw more rounded. But still a Baratheon, through and through, Jaime would bet money on it. 

“I know what?”

“We see a lot of different dynamics around here, not every family looks the same.” Edric scratched at the back of his head, glancing toward the surgery suite and the noise that was coming from it. Jaime began walking toward it, halted by Edric’s hand passing over a paper hat. While Jaime struggled to put it on - he couldn’t quite get it to fit right and kept trying to shove his curls in around the edges - Edric finished with: “I won’t presume to know how people got here, but I know what I see. And, trust me, it takes more than contributing some genes for someone to be a dad.”

Jaime went still and Edric thumped his palm on his shoulder, twice in rapid succession, to get him moving again. “Food for thought. Let’s get in there.”

###### 

They had already gotten Brienne’s spinal done and covered most of her with sterile blue drapes when Jaime finally made his way in. The anesthesiologist let him squeeze in at Brienne’s side and her hands were free, so Jaime took them both, pressing his mouth to each broad palm. “You ready?”

“So ready,” Brienne answered. Her demeanor had gone cloudy again and Jaime suspected she was on the good stuff, confirmed when Brienne whispered, “I can’t feel my legs. It’s so weird.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Jaime replied, chuckling.

“He’s almost here,” Brienne told him.

“He’s almost here,” Jaime agreed. On the other side of the drape, he heard Dr. Meribald call out that he was making the first incision. He and Brienne made mock-frightened faces at each other. 

Brienne’s eyes raked up to his hairline. “Your hat’s falling off.”

“Excuse you, I think I look rather dashing.” Jaime felt around the top of his head and set it at a jaunty angle, satisfied when Brienne gave him a silly smile in return. 

She blinked - hard - and Jaime asked, “What, what is it?”

“Pressure,” Brienne said distantly. “Not pain, but I can feel some pressure.”

“Is that all right?” Jaime asked, turning to the anesthesiologist.

“Perfectly normal,” the woman replied coolly and returned to her machine with its vast collection of knobs and buttons.

Jaime glared at her anyway; Brienne had to grab hold of his chin and made him look back in her direction. “Stop staring her down, you goof. I’m fine.”

He muttered under his breath and Brienne giggled at him. 

“Focus, I need your help” - she made an _ah_ sound when he started to panic again - “with the name. I still haven’t picked a name.”

“Gods, Brienne, I don’t know-”

“Something just for him,” Brienne said on an exhale and a wince. Somewhere out of sight, Dr. Meribald made an encouraging sound. “Not after anyone else.”

“Well, that discounts what I was thinking.” Jaime leant his head close and confessed, “I was feeling pretty partial to Edric. Seems like a good guy and it’s a family name of sorts.”

She laughed, loudly. Dr. Meribald answered as if she were calling out to him, “Almost there, Brienne.”

“It’s a good name, maybe something along those lines,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ll know when I see him.”

“Maybe,” Jaime murmured. 

Then he was there. 

Their faces jerked in the direction of a fierce, stuttering cry. The kid was hidden from view, beyond the drapes, but the sound, the _sound_ of him. Jaime took a sharp breath in and it was mirrored by Brienne’s.

“He’s here, he’s here,” she chanted. “Jaime, please-”

Jaime kissed her forehead, quickly and then once more for longer, holding her cheeks between his palms and he felt a ridiculous prickle behind his eyes. Brienne clenched his hands and then let go and she repeated, “Jaime, please.”

“I’ll go see to him, I’m going,” he promised her.

“No need,” the anesthesiologist told them, stretching past Brienne’s face and chest and Jaime realized that someone was pushing up the drapes from the other side. 

And suddenly the kid wasn’t only a bump under his hand or a cry in the distance, he was there on Brienne’s chest and she made a noise he’d never heard before: joy and awe and heartache, all encompassed in a low moan as she brought her shaking hands to his tiny, shivering back. He cried out again, tremulous and sorrowful, but under Brienne’s warm hand, he slowly settled.

“Oh,” was all she could actually say. “ _Oh._ ”

They let her hold him for a few minutes; Edric brought over a blanket to wrap him up, or at least Jaime thought it was Edric, it was hard to see anything but the two of them. At Brienne’s brief, imploring glance, Jaime trailed after the nurses, watching as he was cleaned and measured. They put a hat on him, one that fit much better than Jaime’s own, which had drifted to the ground when he stood to follow.

Another nurse picked him up once they were done with the cleaning and bundling and Jaime followed as if a thread had been linked from his body to the kid’s, something solid and sworn into being without any trouble at all. The young woman gave Jaime an encouraging smile and tilted her head towards Brienne, as if he needed the reminder and Jaime almost laughed. No one would ever have to give him instructions on finding his way back to her. 

Brienne reached out her hands when they came back into sight, holding him to her chest again, her face clearer and eyes glimmering. She nudged up the stocking cap to run her finger over his dark, downy hair and brought her gaze back to Jaime’s. “Look,” she said in a hushed tone. “Look at him.”

“I see him,” Jaime whispered back. He’d fallen asleep, little whimpers still emerging from his miniscule bow of a mouth.

What was it like, Jaimee wondered, to have been wrapped up safe in a warm cocoon, all the harsh lights and noises of the world held at a distance, cloaked so completely that they couldn’t even be imagined. All until someone pulled you free from shelter and forced you to meet the world at large, entirely against your will. It was cold and glaringly bright and horrifying and then someone’s arms wrapped around you. Brienne’s arms, which were far better than anyone else’s could ever be.

Jaime grazed his thumb across the back of the kid’s hand where it had popped out of the blanket. Tiny. _Tiny tiny tiny_ and yet there were faint lines at the bends of his knuckles, dimples at the base of his perfectly formed fingers. For some reason, that blew Jaime’s mind.

“I wish he was here.” Brienne’s voice shook when she said it. To the kid, to him, Jaime didn’t know. Perhaps it was just to herself. Her eyes were only on the kid, though, her finger running down the slope of his nose, along the curve of his ear. “He should- I wish he could have gotten to see this. To see him.”

What could he possibly say to that? Jaime brushed his lips across her temple, sighing when she did. 

“I love him already,” Brienne said softly. She laughed under her breath. “I love him so much, isn’t that crazy?”

“No,” Jaime assured her. This much he knew how to answer, knew that it was futile to resist it; when it came to Brienne, there was no other way. To say the same of her son was hardly an ordeal - it was entirely effortless. “It’s not crazy at all.”

###### 

###### 

“Hold the elevator!” Jaime yelled out and upped his pace, careening into the box just when the doors started to slide in, his momentum hurtling him against the far wall. The sensors caught his movement and the doors spread wide open again, giving him several seconds to recognize the pointless scene he had made in his hurry. A woman passing in the lobby gave him a disapproving frown. 

He was running on a total of about three hours of sleep, sue him. 

Jaime muttered an apology to the other person in the elevator, a man with a green cap, heavy jacket and a large parcel in his arms. Straightening himself out, Jaime pressed the button for the top floor, barely noticing that it was already lit up. 

Aware that he’d already made an ass of himself and there was no coming back from it, Jaime thunked back against the elevator wall and shut his eyes, a ragged sigh escaping him without permission. He’d gone to check in at work - there were papers he’d forgotten to complete and files to hand over on that last day that had gone unnoticed when Tyrion had essentially kicked him out - and the trip had worn him down more than he expected.

Still, Jaime’s mouth quirked up when he remembered the scene he’d encountered when he’d gone to Tyrion’s office to pass on the missing items. His brother could ridicule his jogging pants and battered sweatshirt all he wanted, falsely claim that he already saw the beginnings of dad bod, it made no difference. It would never erase the memory of finding Tyrion and Arianne in a liplock at the edge of the desk, hands groping in a frenzy, or the smear of red lipstick that remained all over Tyrion’s face when they finally realized they were no longer alone.

Jaime ignored Tyrion’s sputters and Arianne’s forced bravado. He merely crossed the room and slapped the file folder on the desk surface as the two attempted to disentangle themselves, smirked and left. 

“Long day?” Jaime slitted his eyes open to take in the other man in the elevator. He looked sympathetic and knowing. “Kids?”

“Yeah, a newborn,” Jaime sighed out. Less than two weeks home and as much as he loved the little guy, he missed sleep. Sleep had always been so good to him. 

“It’ll improve,” the man grunted. “Give it a year or two.”

“Thanks,” Jaime said wearily.

“Hell of a trade off, though. Kids, I mean.”

He appreciated that, if for no other reason than the pure, godsdamn truth of it. “Yeah, he’s worth it.”

The man looked at the lit elevator button and then back at the package in his hand. “You in 26B?”

“Sorry, no, 26A.”

“Oh, wait.” He moved the box around and flipped a page on top. “No, I’ve got one for you, too.”

Jaime perked up, curious as to what was in the large white box. Now that he looked closer, he saw that it was two separate packages, one on top of the other. “Any idea what it is?”

“My line of work, it’s gotta be flowers.” To prove it, the man angled his chest so Jaime could see the patch on his left chest pocket. His name, apparently Garth, was embroidered under a patch that indicated he was from _Highgarden Blooms._

Jaime laughed to himself. Margaery’s work. Had to be. 

They exited the elevator together and, at Jaime’s urging, Garth unboxed two large, beautiful wreaths. There wasn’t a rose to be found, thankfully - the rings were made from a wealth of blue flowers, all different shades. “Hyacinths, hydrangeas, forget-me-nots,” he pointed out when Jaime asked. “Bellflowers, too. Think you can open the door? I can mount them easily enough once I have access.”

“Sure.” Jaime went straight for Brienne and Margaery’s place, knocking in warning, but found he needn’t have bothered. The living room was empty despite his having left Brienne there a couple hours before, the both of them tucked away like two peas in a pod. “Wait, let me…”

He laughed again when he heard the noise coming from his own apartment, a gurgling cry and a low, soothing voice in reply. “Let me get the other door for you.”

“Thanks, buddy. Hey, there’s a card.” Garth stopped, confusion washing over his face and he gave Jaime a funny look. 

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, just never seen a name this long,” Garth mused. “To Baby Boy Tarth-Lannister-Baratheon-Tyrell. That’s… a mouthful.”

“It’s a joke,” Jaime reassured him. _Fucking Marg_ , he thought affectionately, _she’s never going to let it go_. 

“Lucky kid, can’t imagine what it would have been to go through life with that weighing him down.” Garth reddened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it. Took us time and it was a bit of pain” - Jaime snickered - “but we figured something out. Nice and simple, I swear.”

“Good for him,” Garth said with a nod. 

Jaime thanked him and made his way back to his apartment. He went inside and saw them there, Brienne lying back on the couch and the kid spread out on her chest, his feet kicking idly against her abdomen. Jaime knew from her numerous explanations that it didn’t hurt, that she was healing well, but he still moved forward to pick him up; Jaime patted his hand against the rump of the onesie where there was a whale decal. “What did I tell you about beating up on your mom? It’s impossible, so don’t even bother trying.”

He got a fascinated stare in response, from wondrous eyes that looked like they were already shifting from newborn blue to a soft brown. Jaime jiggled him, kissed his forehead and got a tiny fist smacked against his cheek for his troubles. 

“Salmon does more damage by jumping up on me than he ever could,” Brienne agreed. 

“Better sit up then, in case he decides to pounce,” Jaime suggested. Salmon was observing from afar, still undecided on his opinion of the baby, but he was circling around more often day by day; Tiger had no such inhibitions and was currently bouncing about Jaime’s knees, trying to get his attention. Jaime settled the kid into the crook of one arm so he could reach down with the other to pet him. 

Brienne repositioned herself with a light groan. “He won’t go to sleep. I’ve been trying for an hour, I can tell he wants to, but he’s being stubborn.”

“He’s got a tendency for it,” Jaime replied. “Check out the door, looks like something was sent on behalf of the Tyrells.”

While Brienne went to check out the wreaths, Jaime used his free hand to rustle up a couple harnesses and leashes, as well as the _chest wrap thingie_ \- neither he or Brienne could ever correctly recall the actual name of it - and strapped it on. It put the perfect new baby smell right underneath his nose and he ducked his head to get a big sniff of it.

He could tell when Brienne read the card because she let out a loud snort and came back around the door with it in her hand. Garth finished up when she did and Jaime dug out his wallet, approaching the other man with a tip.

Garth looked at Jaime, then Brienne, then at the dark mop of curls against Jaime’s chest. He looked deeply baffled and Jaime bit down a smile, pointed to his own blond head and seriously said, “It’s a bleach job.”

“Uh-huh,” Garth said suspiciously. Jaime tipped him double the amount for it. Gods, he hoped it never got old. “You guys have a good day.”

“You too!” Jaime said cheerfully. 

“I thought you swore you were going to face-plant into bed once you got back,” Brienne asked. She’d picked up the harnesses from where he’d set them down to attend to the delivery. “Change of plans?”

“If he doesn’t sleep, there’s no use in us trying.” Jaime beckoned Salmon and Tiger over and they responded, staying obediently still so he could get them sorted. Brienne huffed with fond annoyance from above, but it was a battle he’d won several days earlier, over the fact that her stitches had pulled uncomfortably when she’d tried to do the job herself. 

He stood back up, careful in reflection of his altered center of gravity. When he felt steady, Jaime reached out for her and asked, “Want to go for a walk?”

It was hardly a question that needed asking. Brienne took his hand and they went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I can't believe it's done._
> 
> This is the last (written) chapter of this story and there is _so much_ I could say, so please forgive me this bit of chatter, it could be so. much. longer. 
> 
> I began writing this story to provide some comfort to a friend - the internet is awesome for forming friendships, and absolutely shitty when you want to give a hug to said friend. At no point did I anticipate it would come to this massive story, the longest I've ever written and the deepest foray into angst that I've ever done. But it did and you read it and I have gotten the most amazing responses and messages, it is astounding. So I want to thank you for reading, for every kudos, comment and discord exchange - I have never felt so goddamn loved and I will never, ever forget it. 
> 
> My thanks and love again to Slips, Luthien and Nire. They have been the biggest and best support and I love love love them. I also wanted to recognize Forbiddenfantasies1, who freely shared her knowledge and became someone I love to talk to. Firesign, thank you for helping me keep Slips in the dark and I've enjoyed getting to know you, as well. :)
> 
> So thank you thank you thank you to everyone. It has been a hell of a ride and I am thankful that you were here with me for it.
> 
> OKAY. That being said: there is one more chapter. ONE MORE. But it's not written, it's something far more special and I will be posting it... eh, later today. And for those of you wondering _what the hell is the kid's name?_
> 
> Guys. Guys guys guys. I've been telling you since chapter two.


	10. Chapter 10

For everyone who is still stumped:

My sincerest and awestruck thanks to [Knifeears](https://knifeears.tumblr.com/), who I asked to take a commission and keep a secret for _three whole months_. She is a great protector of spoilers and even greater artist - I have loved her work since I first saw it and there is no one else I would ask to make the image in my head come to life. The original file is MUCH bigger, so if you like to see it in all its beautiful detail, head on over to my [tumblr](https://samirant.tumblr.com/post/614334695603404800/knifeears-please-give-her-all-the-kudos) and check it out.

Because Knifeears doesn't have a page for her art on this site, please please please tell her how _incredible_ she is, either in the comments or at her tumblr. Because she is and she deserves to hear it over and over again.

As for all the allusions and hints I peppered throughout the story of Pod's identity, I've done an explanation on my tumblr in [this post](https://samirant.tumblr.com/post/614335202353889280/now-that-chapter-10-is-up-and-seriously-go-to), if you'd like to see them straight off as opposed to searching them down. I'll admit that _some_ of them are kind of vague. And then there are others like Tyrion talking about how the kid could be his squire. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

LOVE AND THANKS TO YOU ALL!


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